


The Trouble with Americans

by Edgelord (lostlikeme)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Awkwardness, Bullying, Coming of Age, Cultural Differences, Explicit Language, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, High School, Homophobic Language, Humor, Internalized Homophobia, Jock!Canada, M/M, Minor Violence, Pre-Slash, Sexism, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Slurs, Weeaboo!America
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-23
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 36,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlikeme/pseuds/Edgelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The exploration of the strange friendship between a studious Japanese boy and a rowdy, blond American. Pre-slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was started in 2010 when I was still in high school, and never finished. I'm editing the original work, and hopefully the rest will follow. Apologies in advance for any style and story inconsistencies, OOCness, and whatever else. Thank you to my wonderful wife and beta, [Aruwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AruWolf).

Kiku had always liked school. From a young age it was something his parents had taught him to take pride in. Doing well in school mattered: it was a social status, a sign of intelligence, and it would be a large part of his life and become an even larger part of his future. More than all of that, however, it was something that Kiku had always found terribly easy. 

For the first time in his life, Kiku was beginning to find concentrating on his schoolwork increasingly difficult.

The fluorescent lights were too bright, and there were far too many of them. He was certain he'd be able to see the board just fine with half the lights and half the watts. He knew there wasn't anything he could do about it, and that all of his frustrations weren't stemming from the lighting, but rather from the entire classroom environment in itself. 

It was nothing like school in Japan. School in Japan was an environment suited for learning. This wasn't a classroom at all. It was chaos. It was a zoo. The students seemed to do everything but listen to the teacher: pass notes, talk to their neighbors (or people across the room) and doodle in the corners of notebooks. Several students had taken their shoes off, and at least two were asleep. 

Then there was the boy who sat directly in front of him. He had the brightest, blindingly yellow shade of blond hair Kiku had ever seen, and he never stopped running his mouth. He talked loudly, incessantly, and nonstop. He talked to the boy on the right and the girl on the left, he talked to the boy in front of him. Occasionally, Kiku noted, he could even be caught talking to himself. Out loud. Thankfully, he hadn't yet turned around and attempted conversation with the boy behind him.

And Kiku was grateful for it.

He could ignore the noise if he tried hard enough, he was sure of it. Closing his eyes, he willed his muscles to relax one at a time. The tension began draining from his head. He could do this. This inner-city public American high school would not ruin Kiku’s otherwise pristine record, nor his chances to attend the University of his choice.

Reminding himself that life was not always easy, he took a deep breath, smoothed out the wrinkles in his khaki pants, and opened his eyes.

“Are you Chinese?” The boy in front of him asked. 

Weren't there rules in American schools? Rules about staying seated and not talking during class and paying attention to the teacher? Apparently not. 

“Ah no, sorry.” 

Why was he apologizing for not being Chinese? It wasn't the first time he’d been asked, nor the first time he’d disappointed. Who would have guessed that in America—land of the immigrants—everyone would be so interested in his heritage? He shook his head, tucked a piece of coal black hair behind his ear, and attempted to resume his classwork. 

“So whaddayou like, Korean or something?” 

Kiku took a deep breath and shook his head. That was usually the second guess, although not always, sometimes the second guess was—

“Filipino?” 

Kiku shook his head again. What was it with this guy? Why did he just keep talking—and right in front of the teacher? Not for the first time, Kiku found himself wishing that schools in America were a little more like schools in Japan. Westerners were far too lax about discipline, it seemed.

“No, I'm...uh...” Despite living in America for more than a year, the language still seemed elude him at the worst times. 

“Vietnamese?” The blond offered, and it had Kiku wondering just how recently the prescription on his glasses had been checked. 

Right on cue, the blond leaned in further, as if attempting to examine his face up close. Perhaps he thought if he squinted enough Kiku's ethnicity would reveal itself. 

“Japanese,” Kiku swallowed before continuing. “I'm Japanese, actually.”

“Japanese?!” The boy exclaimed, turning several heads. 

He said it as if Kiku had just told him that he was part Yorkshire-Terrier, on his mother's side. Kiku watched curiously as Alfred's eyes widened like saucers. 

“Like, right outta Japan?!”

The teacher furrowed his bushy eyebrows and threw him a rather curt look, but otherwise continued teaching. Kiku couldn't believe it. It was if the students ran the classroom instead of the teachers. 

“So did you actually live in Japan?” 

At his old school, people had never accosted him about his ethnicity, and they certainly had never asked him if he was, “right outta Japan.”

“Yes, I was born there,” Kiku admitted softly. “My family and I moved here two years ago.” 

Alfred gave him a very impressed look. The type of look you give someone when they tell you they just scored a twenty-four-hundred on the SATs. 

“So you speak Japanese, right?” 

Kiku had definitely been asked more intelligent questions. Being born into a country and living there for several years usually guaranteed that you could at least speak the given language. Americans weren't exactly known for their academic skills, but this guy seemed particularly dense.

“Uh, I mean...” Seemingly realizing his mistake, he quickly added, “Will you say something in Japanese?”

Kiku wavered. “Ano...” 

Why was this guy talking to him? Why did he care if Kiku was Japanese or or Chinese? How was he expected to placate this person? 

“What would you like me to say?” 

Kiku glanced up at the chalkboard in dismay. He'd have to look the lesson over in his textbook when he got home.

“How do you say…” Alfred started, chewing his lip. “This class sucks balls!” 

Despite his best intentions, Kiku found himself chuckling softly. “I'm afraid I could not do that phrase justice in Japanese.” 

“Well...do you know any cuss words?” 

“I really don't—” He was going to try to explain that things just weren't that simple, he was going to try to make up some excuse, any excuse, but then—

“How do you say I love you?” 

Kiku really hoped his face wasn’t red. That was just undignified. Why would anyone need to say something as embarrassing and as private as that?

“No, it's not like that!” his classmate rushed to explain. “There's this hot Asian chick I know and if I ever get up her shirt I wanna know what to say!” 

Before Kiku could garner a moment to think anything—much less about how ridiculous this guy was being—the blond was in his face again, glasses oddly reflective under the too-bright fluorescent lights.

“I forgot to tell you,” he started, reaching out a hand. It seemed oddly formal all of a sudden, but it wasn't like Kiku had any room to question formality. “The name's Alfred!” he declared, grabbing Kiku's smaller hand and giving it a firm shake. “Alfred fuckin' Jones!”


	2. Chapter 2

The ceilings were too high. They had to be well over ten feet tall. Kiku couldn't figure out why the school district couldn't seem to find the funding for basic art classes or new textbooks, yet seemed to have plenty of money to pay for high ceilings and their outrageous electric bill (because with that many fluorescent lights, their electric bill had to be high.) What was the point? Was the school district fraught with worry? Were they suddenly expecting loud, blind, giants to come stumbling into the classroom?

“Hey!” someone shouted, a familiar someone. 

Kiku immediately recognized the voice. He took it all back. Every single thing that had just crossed his mind—he took it all back! The school district was right. They were right to be expecting blind, loud, tall giants. They existed.

“Where are you coming from? Why are you late?” the teacher bellowed.

Kiku made it a point not to lift his eyes from his paper, inwardly sighing. He was slowly beginning to understand why the teachers at this school all seemed to have given up on teaching.

“I was in here earlier, I told you I was going to the bathroom—” Alfred persisted.

The teacher didn’t give him time to finish speaking. “For twenty-five minutes? This class period is nearly over!” 

“You didn't mark me late, did you?”

Kiku closed his eyes and breathed in deeply in time with the teacher.

“Of course I marked you late! Do you know what time it is?” the teacher questioned. 

“But I wasn't late! I was in here earlier—on time! You said I could go to the bathroom!”

Kiku just couldn't comprehend the situation. While Alfred really had been in class earlier—why was the teacher wasting valuable teaching time arguing with Alfred—a student? Why not just call the principal, or at this point, why not call security? Adults shouldn’t be wasting valuable class time arguing with their students; they were practically children. Back in Japan, the idea of something like this happening was preposterous. No student would ever had the nerve, the audacity—

“Just go take a seat,” the teacher finally muttered, clearly exasperated. Kiku felt sorry for him. The students in this school were embarrassing.

Unfortunately the debacle didn’t stop there. “But—you didn't mark me late, right? Cause I was here on time, I just had to go to the bathroom.” 

Kiku wanted to cover his eyes in shame. He couldn't believe it, that these delinquents were his peers. These were the people he was expected to socialize with on a regular basis? Kiku was clearly out of his element. 

“Go take a seat!” The teacher finally roared, and Kiku cringed. His teachers back in Japan almost never had to raise their voice. Classes had always been a formal and fairly peaceful affair. Not here.

“I was just checkin', cause I really was here! You can ask anybody—hey, you!” Please don't pick me, please don't pick me, please don't pick me—

“Er, what's your name again?” Kiku could feel the eyes staring into the top of his head, could feel the incriminating index finger pointing in his direction.

He couldn't take it anymore. Kiku looked up.

The instructor did not look angry—intimidating, enraged, or infuriated, maybe—but angry? Not even close. Kiku could see the sweat dripping from his brow, the way it was beginning to dampen and loosen his once-slicked back blond hair. His dark eyebrows were narrowed and knitted, creating deep wrinkles between his ice blue eyes. Kiku could practically see his chest rise and fall with pent up rage.

“Yeah, you, the Japanese guy! Wasn't I here when class started?” Alfred cast him a desperate look. Kiku swallowed. He had been, but still, it didn't excuse him from being in the bathroom for twenty-five minutes.

“Ruhe!” Mr. Beilschmidt shouted, and although Kiku didn't know a lick of German, he could guess what it meant. 

“He saw me, trust me! I was here—” That's when the teacher exploded. Kiku was glad he hadn't answered Alfred. Extremely glad.

The rest of the class was watching the scene with bored disinterest. Several students were sleeping. Kiku wondered if this sort of occurrence was commonplace. It was a few minutes into Mr. Beilschmidt's tirade that Kiku noticed that the boy next to him was watching the entire spectacle with wide brown eyes. 

Well, at least someone found the the whole thing as disturbing as he did.

“Excuse me—” Kiku whispered politely, intending to introduce himself. It wasn't as if there was much else to do. Kiku had long ago finished the sixteen measly algebra problems that had been on the board since the beginning of class.

The brunet turned to him, offering a bright smile.

“Hey,” he started, eyes flickering between Kiku and the scene at the front the classroom, “Don't you just think German is so hot?” 

Kiku wasn't sure how to answer.


	3. Chapter 3

So far, Kiku's day had not been going well. Aside from the fact that he'd been late to school, (thanks to the city's ridiculously unreliable public transportation system) he'd also forgotten one of his notebooks, tripped going up the third-floor staircase, and stepped on a piece of blue chewing gum in the hallway. Mind you, this had all happened before he'd even made it into first period. It wasn't until third period that he'd even realized he had two different socks on! They were both white, but the stitching was noticeably different. 

Even worse, third period was his least favorite class—not only was he seated next to his least favorite person, being forced to learn his least favorite language—but all while being taught by the person who was most definitely his least favorite teacher.

It was his Spanish teacher's attitude that bothered him the most. Unlike all of the other teachers whose emotions only teeter-tottered between angry and annoyed, Mr. Hernandez was constantly cheerful. Kiku figured that if he had to be miserable, his teacher ought to be too. He was also the sort of adult that still wanted to fit in, as if his students were still his peers.

Mr. Hernandez was the embarrassing kind that was always trying out the latest slang and butting in on the personal conversations. He was also a little too touchy-feely. Personal space was imperative to Kiku. Luckily, Kiku's Spanish teacher didn't seem to have any special interest in Asians.

Kiku sighed and resisted the urge to chew on his mechanical pencil.

Mr. Hernandez chuckled and Kiku nearly jumped out of his skin. He glanced up, casually attempting to cover his paper with his arm—praying the teacher wouldn't notice he hadn't written anything yet.

“Tiene problemas?” Mr. Hernandez inquired, and although Kiku could tell from the inflection of his voice that it was a question, he really had no idea what he was saying. 

English had been difficult enough to master, Kiku didn't have time to waste trying to learn another entire language, especially one that he would most likely never use outside of secondary school. Kiku realized with a jolt that the teacher was still smiling down at him with twinkling green eyes. Kiku wished he was someplace else. Anyplace else. Mr. Hernandez gave Kiku chills of the worst kind.

The teacher laughed at what Kiku could only assume was his own stupidity. “I said, having trouble?” Great, now Kiku felt even less intelligent. It was a feeling he was beginning to get used too, but detest nonetheless.

“Um, yes, it's just that...I'm not understanding this very well.” 

He hated to say it, he really did. He'd made all sorts of promises to himself the day before that he would go home and read ahead in his Spanish textbook in order to catch up with the rest of the class—a class that already seemed capable of conjugating most Spanish verbs.

The problem hadn't been a lack of time or determination, but rather, the fact that this school didn't allow its students to take textbooks home. Apparently the likelihood that they would ever be returned was far too slim.

“It's very easy, it's like this!” Mr. Hernandez started, tucking a curly lock behind his ear. “The answer to this one is saber—that means to know—so that makes number numero tres tener! Understand?”

Kiku managed a jerky nod. He most certainly did not understand. His teacher merely telling him the answers had no more furthered his education than if Kiku had merely turned to the right and copied the answers from the boy next to him. He didn't understand any better when Mr. Hernandez supplied him with a word bank. When was the actual teaching part of teacher going to come in?

Kiku glanced around the room for something to focus his attention. 

There was a large black board at the front of the room with sloppily scrawled Spanish and English, and a poster just to right depicting the correct pronunciations of the alphabet in Spanish. Hanging on the door was another poster, this time listing what Kiku assumed to be the names of colors. On top of the filing cabinet was a basket filled with various plastic fruits—and for what that was necessary for, Kiku couldn't even guess.

The teacher's desk was on the far left of the room, cluttered and piled high with stacks of papers, leaving the student's desks lined up in crooked rows in the center. Beneath all the desks were metal baskets, and in them sat Spanish textbooks (the 1995 edition) with tattered covers and torn-out pages. Mr. Hernandez said they didn't need them anyway.

Kiku wasn't so sure.

“Okay, now I'm going to need someone to pass out the worksheets—Feliciano and Lovino?” Mr. Hernandez smiled pleasantly at the class, despite not a single student having noticed that he'd begun speaking.

He stood at the front of the room with his held tilted to the side, that stupid smile plastered on his face. It was sort of eerie, the way he could just stand there with that warm smile, waiting for the class to quiet as the minutes ticked by.

Kiku watched from the corner of his eye as Mr. Hernandez began making his way over crashed paper airplanes and schoolbags. So as long as he didn't turn in Kiku's direction, he was safe. He stopped at Feliciano's desk and leaned down to smile.

The instructor must have said something because Feliciano grinned and nodded. His twin huffed. While Feliciano had seemed like a nice enough person at first, Kiku was beginning to find him increasingly strange. In fact, Kiku was beginning to find his school increasingly strange.

“Tiene problemas?” someone asked him, just as he'd begun removing his arm from his paper. He quickly covered it back up.

“No thank you!” Kiku said in a sweaty rush. “I'm doing very well!” He looked up to face the intruder. Alfred smiled.

“Are you sure? 'Cause so far you only got two answers—and I saw Mr. Hernandez come and help you with them.” 

Kiku felt humiliated. “I can manage just fine.”

“It's really easy,” Alfred assured him. “I’ll help.”

Alfred began pushing his feet against the floor, slowly propelling his desk backward, dragging it closer an inch at a time. Kiku’s jaw tightened with every movement. Everyone else seemed unaffected. There was definitely something wrong with this school.

“Okay, so I'll write down all the verbs so far...” 

Alfred easily shoved Kiku's arm aside, snatching his mechanical pencil and obtrusively scribbling at the top of his paper. The handwriting was awful, but if Kiku squinted he could make out the letters.

“So this is saber—that means to know. All you gotta do is memorize these words and what they mean—well, actually, you don't even gotta memorize 'em. Just write 'em down somewhere, and when he gives out the worksheets, get out your paper. If it's a test just write them on your hand. Got it?” 

Was this really his advice? “You want me to cheat?” 

Alfred scratched the back of his neck. “Well, unless you really wanna memorize them and all. Pronouncing them ain't really that hard either, you just gotta learn to roll your r's.” 

Kiku tilted his head. Alfred couldn't have meant that literally. It just didn't make any sense. There were so many confusing English phrases that Kiku had yet to understand.

“It's like this, like when you say rrrojo.” Kiku couldn't help but notice the way Alfred's tongue moved when he said that. A movement like that with your tongue shouldn't even be possible. He didn't even want to attempt to mimic the action. The failure would be far to embarrassing. Perhaps later, when he was alone in his bedroom in front of his mirror he could try.

“Hey! It's not that hard. You'll probably get it eventually. And even if you don't, who cares? Just do like I said and write the stuff on your hand.”

Kiku offered a weak smile. “Thank you, but I don't think I could bring myself to cheat.” 

The consequences for being caught cheating were serious. It was a shame that Alfred didn’t earn his grades honestly, learning a second language seemed to occur naturally to him when he put in effort. 

“I could help you sometimes if you want,” Alfred offered. “It'll be great!” Alfred continued on, not bothering to wait for Kiku to answer. “And you're good in Algebra, right?” 

Kiku gave him a look. How could Alfred possibly know something like that?

“I'm fairly proficient, yes. But how did you know?”

“Well duh—I know 'cause you’re Asian! So this is great—you help me with Algebra, and I'll help you with Spanish. It's a win-win, right?”

Kiku gave a small smile. “I suppose it will be.” 

With that they both stood, the sound of the bell alerting the students that it was time to switch classes. As they stood up, Alfred gave him a strange look, sending Kiku into a nervous fit, feeling all over his face for a grain of leftover rice from breakfast. Perhaps there was seaweed stuck between his teeth?

“Hey,” Alfred started, “Did you know that you're wearing two different socks?” 

Kiku paled and hurried out of the classroom before someone else could notice.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite Mr. Beilschmidt’s strict schedule and short temper, he was quickly becoming one of Kiku's favorite teachers. Kiku actually looked forward to second period Algebra. The instructor’s rage and intimidation generally kept the volume of the classroom down to a reasonable level, making Kiku feel more at ease. What Kiku considered to be a “reasonable level” of chatter for a classroom had undergone some sharp renovations, buts still, he was making adjustments. At least in Algebra, Kiku could think semi clearly. Besides, math was easily his best subject, stereotypes be damned.

All was well—and of course some God up in the sky or some Demon down below must have noticed that Kiku was feeling just the teeniest bit of contentment—because the very next day some awful blond-haired Californian she-devil walked into the classroom.

Except, she wasn't a she-devil at all. She was actually a he. His name was, “Feliks, with a k, FYI.”

He introduced himself with no shortage of lip-smacking and bad euphemisms. Then, Mr. Beilschmidt made the worst possible error in judgment in the history of the German people (okay, well maybe not the worst.) He sat Feliks next to Feliciano Vargas. 

Feliciano Vargas. 

Of all the students to sit Feliks next to, Mr. Beilschmidt sat him next Feliciano-chatterbox-Vargas.

Kiku hadn't had a moment to think a single solitary thought since. 

“So I was like, seriously Toris, I'll totally visit you and stuff!

Kiku watched from behind his forearm where his head had previously been resting. He'd given up on trying to do much of anything once the two of them began a conversation.

“And so, he like, totally freaked out! I-d-k why though. I told him, you're still like, my super best friend—no offense Feliciano.” 

Feliciano put his arms up as if in surrender. 

“None taken. I understand how that is, to want to be close someone when you can't...” 

Brown eyes slid none-too-slyly in the direction of their lecturing teacher. Feliks' eyes widened in recognition.

“Oh-my-god! You totally have the hots for Fuhrer Algebra, don't you?” 

Kiku could feel the heat creeping up his face, and he wondered if his cheeks were as red as Feliciano's. He turned his head away. This was obviously a very private conversation. He couldn't believe that students were talking about stuff like that right in the middle of class, and right where anyone could hear them.

Kiku glanced at the blackboard from in between in his arms. Mr. Beilschmidt was still going over the same problem. He wished he had something else to focus on. Anything else. He tried thinking about what he would do once he got home.

“Yeah, that really sucks. Too bad you're not into Mr. Hernandez, 'cause I think he's totally into young boys or something!”

Kiku could feel his eyes widen. Well, it wasn't as if the same thoughts hadn't crossed his mind, but still, that was the kind of thing you kept yourself. 

“No way! Mr. Hernandez is nice. You're so weird—” Feliciano was trying in vain to defend the man. It was obvious Feliks had already made up his mind.

“No, like, seriously. He's way too touchy. Maybe it's not even little boys—maybe it just your—ohh! I bet it's twins! Maybe he's got like this weird twin fetish! I always see him get extra touchy with you and--what's your brother's name again?”

“Lovino. His name's Lovino, and I don't think it's like that. Maybe Mr. Hernandez just gets lonely...”

“And wants to stick it up Lovino’s ass,” Feliks' finished the sentence with a snort before bursting into laughter.

As time ticked by and boredom settled in, he found himself peeking from behind his elbow yet again, noting that the seat to the left of him was indeed still empty. Alfred was cutting class again. Kiku frowned, before his ears began inadvertently picking up on the nearest conversation.

“No, that's like super convenient for you! He'd probably be really into it, too. No, seriously—I heard that BDSM, like, totally originated in Germany. It’s like, part of their national anthem and everything!” 

Suddenly, Kiku wished Alfred was here. He sighed, laying his face flat against his cool desk, and hoped for sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Kiku was slowly beginning to come to terms with the fact that he had nearly every class with Alfred. So far Kiku had first, second, third, fifth, seventh, and eighth period with him. The reason it took Kiku approximately two and a half weeks to even notice such a thing was because Alfred rarely attended all of them. Apparently Alfred had decided that today would be a fine day to attend Physical Science class, and for the second time this week, no less. 

He'd waltzed in ten minutes after the late bell had rung, blond hair sweat slicked and stuck to his forehead, glasses askew, with his blue eyes shining. He'd pulled at far too baggy jeans uselessly, (they only fell back down again), revealing what could only be—Kiku had actually done a double-take—Pokemon boxers. That was definitely a Pikachu he had just seen.

“Hey, I didn't know you had this class!” Alfred proclaimed, much too loudly for an indoor setting, Kiku noted.

“You aren't here very often.” Kiku hadn't meant for the statement to sound so accusatory. He really hadn't. Alfred scratched at the nape of his neck sheepishly. It seemed to be a nervous tick.

“Yeah, well, I would'a showed up more if I knew you were in my class.” Kiku wasn't sure how to take that—as a compliment, he supposed. 

It was strange. Kiku's interaction with Alfred had been fairly limited so far. On the days when Alfred did show up to class, Kiku tried to keep to himself as much as possible. Things were just easier that way. Alfred grabbed the nearest chair and saddled up beside Kiku, straddling it casually.

“So, you talk to anyone else yet? You seem so quiet all the time.” 

Well then, he'd been found out. “Sort of. I spoke with one boy the other day. I believe Fel-ll-” Who the hell invented the letter l anyway? That many, in one name? “Feliciano,” he managed finally, “I believe that was his name.” 

“Feliciano? The Italian guy from Algebra? He's alright! Hey—is it true? I heard that we got a new kid! What's he like?” Alfred hadn't been to Algebra since the day before Feliks had been introduced.

“He's, well...he's very interesting.” And talkative, and loud. Come to think of it, you and him might become spectacular friends.

“Yeah, I wish I could meet him,” Alfred said, sounding forlorn, as if he couldn't just show up to Algebra tomorrow morning and do just that. “It is a boy, right? Is it a girl? Is she hot?” 

“You could say that,” Kiku replied. Apparently Alfred didn't take much notice of personal pronouns.

“Is she hot?!”Alfred goaded.

It depends, Kiku wanted to say, are you into blonds?

“If you show up to class tomorrow, you could find out for yourself,” he said instead. 

Kiku wasn't quite sure why he was baiting Alfred this way—perhaps partially for his own entertainment, and partially because he really was beginning to feel stranded in Algebra—especially when was just one seat away from Feliciano-chatterbox-Vargas and Feliks-with-a-k, fyi.

“Ugh,” Alfred sighed and slumped onto Kiku's desk melodramatically. “But I hate Algebra! And besides, Mr. Beilschmidt's got something' against me—I know it!”

Kiku rolled his eyes. Maybe he just ought to save himself the trouble and go and get his GED instead.


	6. Chapter 6

Kiku was beginning to think he'd let the joke go just a little to far. It was one thing to let Alfred think the new student was a girl, but it was another story to allow him to continue thinking so—especially when Alfred started flirting with him. 

“So, is true what they say about California girls?” 

Feliks rolled his eyes. “You totally sound like such a creeper. What's your deal?” 

Kiku was curious himself. What did they say about California girls? Something sexual, probably. A flush quickly spread across Alfred's cheeks. It was strange the way he could be so confident and ridiculously full of himself one minute, and the next minute a blushing bride. He scratched the nape of his neck, again.

“Hey! I'm not a creeper, I just think you're like hot. What's the problem with that?” 

Feliciano's eyes widened. Even if Feliks had been a girl, Alfred had gone about this in the most classless way possible. Kiku was beginning to get nervous. As far as he knew, homosexuality wasn't something completely accepted in America (or anywhere, for that matter.) 

It wasn't even that Alfred was gay, just that he was confused (boy that sounded almost just as a bad, didn't it?) While Alfred didn't seem like the type to beat someone up, with Americans and the issue of homosexuality, you can never be too sure.

“Dude, I'm like so not into blonds, and even if I was, I wouldn't be into you. Ew. Do you even know the meaning of the word subtle?” 

Kiku was fairly certain he didn't. To be honest, he was kind of surprised that Feliks even knew the word, really. Feliks and Alfred were loud talkers by nature, and several other students had turned around in their chairs in hopes of overhearing some juicy gossip.

Kiku figured he really had let things slip too far. “Alfred—” but Alfred wasn't listening.

“But you're blond! How can you not be into blonds? It's like your racist against yourself!” Alfred seemed particularly perturbed. 

Maybe Alfred was just one of those stereotypical Americans—blonde, big-boobed bimbos being his only type. But then, that would be strange, because Feliks didn't have any boobs. Hell, as far as Kiku knew, he didn't even have a vagina.

“Aryan nation much? Like, gosh, why don't you just go chat up Mr. Nazi up there?” 

Feliks punctuated the last statement with a loud smack of his lips and the swift turn of his head, causing blond hair to whip behind him. Kiku wondered if pulling something like that off took a lot a practice.

“Cause I'm not a faggot!” 

Alfred gathered a few more pairs of eyes when he said that part. Kiku swallowed. At the very least, couldn't they all use their indoor voices?

“Um, I'm like totally confused then.” 

Kiku looked at Feliciano. Feliciano shrugged, looking equally as helpless. Kiku sighed, and leaned over to whisper in Alfred's ear.

“Feliks is a boy, Alfred.” 

Alfred looked horrified, and Feliciano giggled. Feliks smacked his lips again, oblivious

“Ohmigod, this class is like, so gay. Who needs algebra anyways?” 

Alfred, finally having digested the entire scenario—looking more embarrassed than Kiku had ever before seen—held his hands up in mock submission before defensively muttering:

“No homo,” just in case the class needed some clarification.


	7. Chapter 7

For someone who claimed they hated Algebra, Alfred was ridiculously good at it. Kiku wondered why Alfred had ever requested tutoring in the first place.

“You need help?” Alfred offered, swiping a stray strand of blond hair out of his line of vision. 

“No thank you,” Kiku mumbled into his paper. 

He certainly wasn't jealous. Sure, Alfred had finished the problems a little earlier than him, but that was fine—in fact—that was good. Alfred needed a boost in his grade a hell of a lot more than Kiku did. He certainly wasn't bitter about it.

“Are you sure—”

“Quite.” 

Alfred quieted. As the moments ticked by in silence, Kiku began feeling something akin to guilt. Hunching his shoulders and sighing, he turned to Alfred.

“I apologize for snapping, it's just—” 

“So you think that new kid's gay?” Alfred asked over of Kiku's sentence. 

So apparently he hadn't hurt Alfred's feelings at all. Perhaps it was simply hard to hurt a person's feelings when they had the attention span of a goldfish.

Kiku shrugged. “I don't know, I don't concern myself with the affairs of others.”

Alfred rolled his eyes and lowered his voice to a whisper. 

“But that doesn't bother you? What if he's like, a complete queer?” 

Kiku wasn't sure which direction Alfred was trying to steer this conversation, but he wasn't feeling inclined to end up lost in the Brokeback mountains of homosexuality.

“Why would that bother me?” Kiku finally asked, intrigued.

In Japan, homosexuality wasn't so much as accepted; it existed, but if you were any good at it, no one important knew.

“Well what if he checks you out or something?” 

Kiku arched an eyebrow. Was that even a serious question? “Don't you look at girls?”

“Yeah but—”

“Well it's the same. Either way, it doesn't concern us.” 

Kiku attempted to get back to work and down to business. Alfred was ahead of him, after all.

“Yeah, but that's not natural. Guys are supposed to check girls out.” 

Kiku managed not to roll his eyes. “Lots of things aren't natural, but we still accept them.” 

Alfred scoffed. “Like what?”

“Like microwaves,” Kiku said simply. 

The list was endless. Besides, why did it matter whether it was natural or unnatural or genetic or a choice or a disease that you got from eating too many baked potatoes? Alfred wasn't gay, Kiku wasn't gay, and so it didn't matter. It wasn't their business.

“Look, that doesn't count! We need microwaves to survive! Being gay is like, I don't know—there's just something wrong with it! Look at him, he looks like a girl!” 

Alfred pointed past him at the blond-haired boy and Kiku quickly pushed his hand away.

“You didn't have a problem with it yesterday.”

“I didn't know he was a boy yesterday—I already said no homo!”

“Ah, of course.”

They lapsed into silence again, and Kiku wondered if Feliks and Feliciano had overheard the entire thing. They did sit just two seats over. Kiku could certainly hear their conversation with crystal-clear clarity. Before Kiku could stop himself from listening, it was already too late.

“Does it hurt?” Feliciano asked the blond, looking nervous. 

Feliks shrugged. “I-d-k, I've never done it before. I like, almost did it with this one guy one time—but he ended up just giving me a blowjob and then I was totes too tired afterwards.” 

Feliciano's eyes widened, and Feliks delivered a haughty smirk. “So how far have you gotten?” 

Kiku didn't want to find out. As quickly as possible he engrossed himself in his math worksheet. Just what was wrong with those two? Didn't they understand that certain conversational topics were better left private? Hell, some things were better left not uttered out loud at all! Well, at lest Alfred wouldn't bother him with useless questions anymore. The answer was fairly obvious.

An insistent tap at his shoulder made him think otherwise.

“Kiku!” Alfred whispered insistently. “I think Feliks is gay.” 

“Imagine that,” Kiku said quietly instead. 

Next Captain obvious would be alerting him that the sky was blue or something equally as obvious.

Alfred jabbed him with his elbow again. “Do you think it's 'cause he's from San Francisco?” Kiku shrugged, and cringed when Alfred nudged him again. What could he possibly want now?

“Where's that even at anyways?” Alfred asked, curious expression completely genuine. “It's in California, right?”

No Alfred, he wanted to say, it's off the coast of Brazil. He didn't, however, because the last thing Kiku wanted was to teach Alfred just where Brazil was–much less it's coast. Kiku slumped against his desk in resignation instead.


	8. Chapter 8

Kiku was sitting quietly in Spanish, just like he did any other day. The worksheet on his desk was—for once—completed, and there was a mechanical pencil neatly placed at the top. Today, his socks matched, he hadn't forgotten his notebook, and he hadn't tripped up the stairs. Even better, there wasn't a piece of chewing gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Why was it, then, that Kiku was no happier than the day before?

He glared at the empty seat in front of him. He looked around the classroom. The same old loud, stupid neanderthals. He stared pointedly at the door. Minutes ticked by. He huffed, and went back to glaring.

“Dude, are you like, sure you're okay?”

Kiku turned. It was Feliks. He managed a weak smile and nodded. “I'm fine, why do you ask?”

“Well, cause like, that was like the third time I asked, and like—this is the first time you said anything!”

Kiku sheepishly rubbed the nape of his neck. He stopped. That wasn't a nervous habit Kiku had ever noticed in himself before.

“I'm fine, just tired.” He turned back to face the blackboard. He laid his head flat against the desk. It appeared Mr. Hernandez was done teaching for the day. Of course. Kiku had almost drifted off into a beautiful, dreamless sleep, when a high-pitched voice brought him back to reality.

“Soooo, do you like, always look super mad when you're tired?” 

Kiku wasn't sure how to respond. He certainly wasn't angry.

“Or is this 'cause Alfred isn't here?” He hadn't considered the thought before. 

Kiku considered it. Was Alfred's absence the reason he was feeling so down-hearted? Alfred was his only friend (Kiku was even hesitant to call him that much) but really, Kiku didn't need friends. He certainly didn't need loud, classless, ill-mannered ones—

The classroom door slammed open and Kiku's head swiveled in the direction of the door so fast his hair was left to dramatically trail behind him. Perhaps it wasn't practice after all, just a little luck and good timing. It was the counselor. Mr. Hernandez walked over and began to talk with him. He couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Kiku turned back to Feliks. Kiku hadn't had a moment of peace since Mr. Hernandez had moved his seat next to Kiku’s three days ago. Originally he'd been allowed to choose his own seat—which, of course, had been right next to Feliciano. As if the classroom hadn't been loud enough—but then, in a surprising display of authority, Mr. Hernandez had moved Feliks across the room for “chatting too much.” Kiku had suspicions that it had less to do with chatter, and more to do with the fact that it meant Mr. Hernandez wasn't doing the chatting (with Feliciano, of course.)

Actually, originally Feliks had been taking Italian during this period, but apparently the Italian teacher had quickly caught on to the fact that he was cheating off of a native Italian speaker (i.e. Feliciano.) To Kiku, it still didn't make sense—it wasn't as if Feliks wouldn't just copy Feliciano's Spanish work now. 

Another thing that didn't make any sense was the fact that Kiku knew all of this information to begin with. Thanks to the volume Feliciano and Feliks liked to converse in, he also knew their favorite colors, television shows, and unfortunately, the fact that Feliciano liked to listen to German when he “beat off.” 

Feliks was still staring at him. Kiku sighed. Again.

“Why would this have anything to do with Alfred? I told you, I'm merely tired.”

“So what's up with you two anyway?” Feliks continued on, ignoring Kiku's answer. “You don't just like him, you like, like him like him, don't you?”

Kiku stared. He blinked. He gaped like a fish, waiting for the words to come. 

Unfortunately, he hadn't understood a word of what Feliks had just said. Kiku felt uncomfortable, and embarrassed that he still wasn't proficient enough in English to understand the native English speakers. Not to mention he didn’t want to appear rude by asking Feliks to repeat himself, as if he hadn’t been listening.

Feliks gave him a strange look, and Kiku didn't understand that either. Feliks wiggled his eyebrows. Then he said, “So do you?”

And Kiku, too embarrassed to ask him to repeat to the question or explain he didn’t underst, just shrugged and muttered, “I suppose so.” 

Feliks' eyes widened. “I d-didn't th-think, you like, you like—whoa!” his words trailed off into girlish laughter. 

Kiku was beginning to think that perhaps he'd given the blond the wrong answer.


	9. Chapter 9

Surprisingly, the next few days went by with little fanfare. Mid-terms were looming just a few weeks ahead, and Kiku was almost entirely absorbed in his studies. He was beginning to feel the onset of pride that always accompanied his successful integration into a new school. His grades in all of his classes were more than adequate, not to mention improving. With the exception of Spanish (which he didn't like to think about), Kiku was satisfied with himself. He was almost looking forward to mid-terms. In a way, it was a chance for Kiku to show off.

Alfred seemed unconcerned. “Man, fuck studying, you know?” 

Kiku turned slightly. “You don't study at all?” 

He wasn't all that surprised. A little envious, perhaps. While Kiku most definitely had better grades than Alfred, it seemed that the blond had somehow acquired the ability to to coast through his classes while exerting little to no effort at all.

“No way man! I got better stuff to do than that!” Alfred exclaimed, rocking his desk loudly as he shouted. Mr. Hernandez didn't seem to notice. Or care. Or both.

Kiku was curious. “Like what?”

For the first time, Alfred's smile faltered and Kiku felt awkward. His eyes trailed down to his fingernails. He began picking at the skin—a habit he'd been meaning to break. He hadn't meant to make Alfred uncomfortable. Kiku felt rude all of a sudden, and just barely resisted the urge to apologize and lapse into painfully stilted formality. Oh, how he missed when bowing were socially acceptable. And formal speech—a thing of the past.

“You know, just ah, things—” Alfred was struggling for words. Kiku wanted to tell him it was alright, and he needn't explain himself—though, much as he hated to admit it, now he was curiouser than ever.

“I, like, totally know what he spends his time doing!” A high pitched voice interrupted, both saving Alfred from an impossible explanation and making him almost just as uncomfortable. It was Feliks (with a k, fyi.)

“Why don't you tell Kiku, huh, Alfred?” Feliks giggled. 

Kiku glanced between the two of them. Had he missed something? Did Kiku and Alfred get along better than he'd originally thought? He almost felt a flash on unwanted, well, it certainly wasn't jealousy—Alfred had other friends, after all. But to confide a secret in someone like Feliks? Kiku didn't want to be rude, but he was almost offended.

The last time Kiku had checked, Alfred was still too shaken up over accidentally flirting with the other boy to actually attempt any regular conversation. Besides, Feliks?

“Uh—um, what do you mean, F-Feliks?” Alfred was holding his hand against the back of his neck, rubbing it subconsciously. 

Kiku wondered if he ought to tell Alfred that he had that habit. It was always such a dead give away. But then, perhaps it was rude to point out something like that. 

“You know—about that “hobby” that you have.” Kiku wasn't sure he wanted to find out anymore. He glanced around the room, but Mr. Hernandez was still—still, ah, “tutoring” Lovino. Kiku resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

Then he noticed the empty seat next to the fuming twin. That was unusual. He and Feliciano weren't good friends by any means, but still, an absence from school was troubling. Especially since his twin was still present. Usually they were a “both or neither” sort of deal.

Then again, maybe Japanese schooling was just ingrained in his head. Absences in this school appeared to be much more common. Kiku, however, was held to his parents' standards, and he'd yet to miss a day—even on the one occasion where he'd had a fever. Dedication to one's schoolwork was important, but Kiku was beginning to think that his parents could be a little extreme at times.

“Kiku, can you like, even hear me?” Kiku turned, confused. He could become lost in his thoughts at the worst of times.

“Of course. I apologize.” He sprung for what he'd hoped had transpired while he'd been day-dreaming. 

“You were saying you really like Alfred, correct?” Feliks made a gagging noise and Alfred's eyes shot around in ten different directions. Alfred even managed a half defeated “no homo” despite the lack of students who'd noticed.

“Like, ew, no. I was saying you should tell Alfred how much you like, like him.” Feliks grinned smugly. Kiku cocked his head to the side. Alfred was turning increasingly red in the face.

“Ano....Alfred, are you quite alright?” Kiku asked softly. He wasn't sure what Feliks was going on about. He assumed it had something to do with Felicano's absence. Trying to stir up trouble, probably. 

Alfred was quick to defend his health.

“Yeah I'm fine! Why would you ask something like that? Why wouldn't I be alright?” 

Kiku cocked his head. Those two were acting awfully suspicious. 

“That's good. I was just checking—”

Feliks opened his mouth again, a devious look in his eyes.

Alfred looked almost...frightened? 

“I have to go to the bathroom!” Alfred announced. 

Feliks looked simultaneously confused and entertained. Kiku sighed, unsure of how to respond. He settled with a smile. Smiles were reassuring, weren't they? Alfred excused himself to the bathroom without permission from the teacher, and Feliks burst into uproarious laughter.


	10. Chapter 10

It wasn't so much that Kiku was eager to take Alfred up on his offer for help with Spanish, insomuch as he had to. Quite literally. Mr. Hernandez had walked up to his desk, and with very disappointed eyes, whispered, “Kiku, I think you better take Alfred up on his offer.” Then he had ghosted his hand across Kiku’s back in what Kiku had hoped was meant to be a comforting gesture.

He laid down the test Kiku had taken just last week with a sad smile. It was the test Kiku had thought he'd done well on. He’d studied hard the night before, and tried his best to pay attention in class that week—no easy feat what with the way Mr. Hernandez ran the classroom.

Scrawled across the top of his paper in—was that red sharpie?—was a big fat “F.” While the use of a sharpie was most definitely overkill, the grade at the top almost made Kiku's eyes water with frustration. Failure.

Kiku’s first reaction was to take offense—Mr. Hernandez really should not have been listening in on his students’ conversations like that. Once the idea actually sank in, however, he realized that Mr. Hernandez was right. Kiku needed help.

How was he supposed to show his parents this? Kiku’s dark eyes sullenly trailed over to where Alfred was being far too loud. He was grinning and laughing with a brown-haired girl, waving his test paper excessively in the air. At the top, was a neatly printed “A” and the words, “Great job!” Kiku scowled.

Alfred turned suddenly, blonde hair whipping behind his head. Kiku quickly pretended to be looking for something in his backpack. He used it as a chance to quickly stuff his test paper inside before Alfred could see the grade. Kiku had to swallow and take a deep breath just to get it done. (Stuffing a paper into his backpack as opposed to neatly placing it in its designated folder really went against everything Kiku stood for.)

No one could see how embarrassingly Kiku had failed at what even people like Alfred could learn easily. Kiku didn’t care if he needed the help—he’d find it elsewhere. The more he thought about it, the faster his heart seemed to race. He swallowed thickly. He could do this. He promised himself it wouldn’t be a repeat of his middle school graduation ceremony.

Kiku took a deep breath and tried to think clearly. He decided he would merely hire a professional to tutor him in Spanish, one that no one else would ever have to know about. He realized that hiring someone capable of teaching such him Spanish would be no small feat, as well as require a good deal of money. Kiku knew there was no way he could confide in his parents, and he would therefore have to gain the funds on his own. Kiku almost immediately decided he would get a part-time job after school—that, however, meant he would have to make up an excuse for coming home from school so late.

Kiku swallowed, his breath coming in short puffs. He unconsciously began picking at the skin around his nails, mind racing. Then he thought of the perfect explanation. He’d simply tell his parents that he’d been elected as part of student council. Yes, that would not only appease his parents’ questions, but also make them proud. 

“What'd ya get?” a voice asked suddenly. 

Kiku jumped, startled. He was still trying to figure out if his parents would want proof that he was part of student council, and if they did, how Kiku would be able to forge it. He glanced up to meet blue eyes. It was Alfred, as always. He grinned. 

“I said, what’d ya get on the test?”

All intelligible words fled from his mind. Should he simply lie and tell Alfred that he’d gotten a higher grade? What if Alfred asked to see his test to compare answers? Should he simply refuse him? What could he say? Realization hit Kiku yet again, as he remembered his entire reason for fabricating the story was the fact that he’d gotten an F on a test. 

“Huh?” Kiku managed, trying to buy himself time. Heart racing, Kiku feigned confusion, zippering his navy blue backpack closed as quickly as possible. He avoided making eye contact, staring instead at the seat Alfred was sitting on. For the first time, he noticed Alfred didn’t seem to have a backpack.

“Your test, duh! What’d you get on it?” Alfred waved his own test in the air again to make a point. 

Kiku shrugged, trying to come up with a lie for Alfred. Contrary to what it may seem, Kiku was in fact not a fan of liars, nor a fan of lying. Kiku was logical, however, and he understood that sometimes drastic times called for drastic measures.

“Well, actually…” Alfred was the last person he wanted to inform about his grades. The last person after his Father, of course. Father would be enraged—Kiku didn’t even want to think too much about what would happen if he found out. But Alfred—he would probably have the school laughing at him before Kiku could even finish the phrase, “Lower your voice.” 

“It’s okay,” Alfred began, whispering suddenly. “Mr. Hernandez already told me. We can help each other like we talked about, right?”

Kiku’s eyes widened. He was at once flooded with two distinct emotions: panic, which he had become quite familiar with over the years, and rage. Rage that Mr. Hernandez had disclosed Kiku’s personal information without his consent, and panic because who knew who else Mr. Hernandez planned on informing—or even worse, who he had already informed. What if Mr. Hernandez had already contacted his parents?

Kiku wasn’t one for foul language, but, shit. Why hadn’t Kiku thought of that before? Of course Mr. Hernandez was going to contact his parents. He had just received a failing mark on an important test! There was no way around it. 

Kiku glanced down and noticed small droplets of red staining his test. He also realized, much to his chagrin, that in his panic he hadn’t even stuffed the right paper into his backpack. The whole class had probably already noticed the failing grade. Everyone knew. 

The class was laughing—Kiku tried to tell himself it had nothing to do with him, but how could he be sure? The lights seemed far too bright and Alfred seemed almost transparent. Kiku blinked, vision unclear.

“Hey, you okay?” Someone asked.

Kiku wasn’t.


	11. Chapter 11

Kiku managed to avoid Alfred for the next three days. He wasn't quite sure how (they shared nearly half their classes with one another, after all) but he was proud of the feat, nonetheless. Kiku liked to tell himself that he wasn't really “avoiding” Alfred, per se, but rather refocusing his studies. Kiku felt that his reasoning was completely warranted, if his failing spanish tests were anything to go by.

Thanks to Alfred's lack of presence, Kiku finally had the chance to do all of things he'd been to distracted to do before.

Finally, Kiku could return to idly cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his ballpoint pen. That was definitely important. Kiku couldn't believe it, but his hygiene had most definitely suffered with Alfred around. Of course, he also had been neglecting to make sure all of his pencils were sharpened. And with Alfred around to chit chat, gossip, and guffaw, Kiku had most definitely never had enough time to recheck his math, much less recheck it the necessary three times.

Kiku sighed.

“You're like, totally pathetic.” Kiku nearly had a heart attack. For a millisecond, his brain seriously considered the thought that Feliks was a mind reader.

“What do you—”

“Oh god—don't tell me you're gonna play dumb! You've been acting like someone pissed in your miso soup for like three days. Hate to say it, but, the jig is up. What'd the big ape do? Forget the Chinese New Year?”

It took Kiku an awkward moment to process everything that Feliks said, and another moment to think of a response. Even then, it wasn't very good.

“I'm not sure what you mean.”

“Ohmygod. Do I have to spell it out for you? Why are you ignoring Alfred?”

Kiku swallowed. “I'm not?”

Another head appeared beside the blond, suddenly. “But Kiku, when he told that really funny joke the other day, you didn't even laugh!” 

Feliciano looked positively scandalized, as if not laughing at another's joke were truly a crime against humanity. Kiku hadn't done it on purpose, he had merely been focusing on his classwork. He tried explaining.

“I'm not ignoring Alfred, I'm simply trying to focus on my—”

Feliks didn't buy it for a second. 

“Kiku, I've been copying all of your classwork for like, two months. It takes you like thirty seconds to do it. Since when does this class require like, any kind of focus?”

Kiku tried to think quickly. “Yes, but when I finish early, I like to—”

“Obsessively clean your nails and sharpen and resharpen your pencils? I've noticed, and quite frankly, it's kinda embarrassing.”

Kiku was almost offended by the frankness. Feliks was assuming that Kiku was purposely ignoring Alfred, going out of his way to be rude, and worst of all, accusing Kiku of lying. Kiku would have been offended, that is, if Feliks hadn't been so right.

Feliks leaned in, a little too close for comfort. He lowered his voice to a whisper. Kiku was surprised he had the capability (if only he'd use it more often.)

“Look, we all know what this is really about. So just like, make up already. No one cares that you got an F! Except like, you.”

Kiku's eyes widened considerably. If Feliks knew, did that mean everyone knew? And how exactly did Feliks know in the first place? Had Alfred told him? 

“Calm your tits, sir stress a lot. Just let Alfred help you in Spanish. It's like, the only thing he's good at.”

Kiku realized that his first instinct was to leap to Alfred's defense, explaining in all too much detail that there was quite a long list of things that Alfred was good at, Spanish merely being one of them. 

“I think I will talk to him,” Kiku amended, nodding. Feliciano shouted in jubilation. Feliks offered a self-satisfied smirk.

With a wicked glint in his eye, Feliks continued:

“Since he hasn't been in school today, I think you should stop by his house.”

Kiku shook his head immediately. It would be inconsiderate, rude, most importantly, completely awkward. Not to mention Kiku had no idea where Alfred lived in the first place.

“Luckily, I like, totally have his address!”

Kiku startled again, and made another illogical concession for the day. This one, of course, was to think more quietly.


	12. Chapter 12

Alfred's house was both completely shocking and yet exactly how he'd expected it. In some ways, Kiku had envisioned something similar. Row homes in the city were only so different, after all. There were the same spacious kitchens and smallish bathrooms, the same outdated wallpaper and off-white walls, and of course, the same Euro-American architecture: something straining between elegance, practicality, and pure American enthusiasm. Kiku could see the British history in the beautiful wooden staircase, the usefulness of strategically placed closets, and of course, the slight slope of the hardwood floors screamed nothing less than American.

The house, of course, was as expected. The home was something new altogether.

For some reason, Kiku had half-imagined Alfred's home life as frozen in the fifties. He'd imagined Alfred's father as a hard working, clean shaven businessman with perfect amber eyes and wavy brown hair. In his mind, Alfred's mother had been a stay at home Mom, full of blond hair and baked-from-scratch pies, obsessed with keeping the house neat and orderly. He'd imagined Alfred's house would smell of lemon and pin-sol, and that his Mother would great Kiku with a warm southern comfort.

Nothing in the world could have prepared Kiku for the harsh reality.

The woman who greeted him at the door was wearing an open bathrobe with a black tank top and white boxer shorts underneath. Her hair was more or less strewn about, clearly unbrushed, and her dark eyes held something heavy and unyielding inside them, ensconced in heavy eyelids that told nothing short of exhaustion.

“What do you want?” Kiku quickly double checked that he was at the right home. He began picking with his fingers, fidgeting.

“Is Alfred home today?” 

She sighed. “I wish he wasn't, but go on up.” 

She held the silver screen door open for him, and for a moment, Kiku just stared at her. She slammed her hand against the door, rattling the tin.

“You coming in, or not?” 

Kiku quickly followed her inside. There was a strange smell in the air. Alfred's mother pointed towards the stairs before heading back towards a well-worn couch.

Inhaling deeply (and almost immediately regretting doing so) Kiku began making his way through the sheer amount of stuff that consisted of their home. He climbed over chairs, coolers, empty wrappers, an old microwave oven and a bike with a flat tire. By the time Kiku had made his way to the top of the steps, he had to stop to catch his breath. He decided to put the state of Alfred's home on the back burner for now, saving his mind for analyzing different problems—namely, which door led to Alfred's room. 

One door was completely untouched and clean, while the other two were completely covered with stickers. One door seemed to house stickers supporting various sports teams, while the other was suffocating under stickers of cute cartoons. When Kiku spotted an american flag sticker on the latter door, he figured it was the best sign he'd ever get. He gave a hesitant knock.

“What? I already told you Mom, I'm broke!” The voice became louder as footsteps approached, and the words died on Alfred's tongue and he swung open the door. 

There was his classmate, standing there in nothing but ill-fitting boxers and the body he'd been born with. The boxers had pokeballs on them. He’d been right about them all along. Kiku barely had the time to be embarrassed for him, before Alfred spoke.

“Kiku,” Alfred managed, voice hoarse.


	13. Chapter 13

Alfred sputtered. Kiku couldn't recall a time he'd seen Alfred so frantic. In a strange way, it put Kiku at ease. Kiku gave him a few moments to gape and gather his bearings. 

“Aren't you going to invite me in?”

Alfred managed a jerky nod. “Yeah, but, um. It's kinda a mess.”

Kiku would have laughed if he'd known Alfred better. He would have even made a sarcastic comment, like how it couldn't have been worse than whatever was going on downstairs. 

Kiku stepped slowly into Alfred's room, trying to observe as much as possible. It was a little cramped, and a little cluttered, but no messier than what Kiku assumed most teenaged boy's rooms looked like. The entire bedroom was pretty typical. The strangest thing in the room was Alfred. 

He was darting around the room, throwing articles of clothing into his closet, hopelessly trying to stuff his already overflowing trashcan with more balled up tissues, and even stranger, clearing his entire dresser of a fairly large collection of small, plastic ponies. Something about the entire thing was almost endearing. Kiku laughed, despite himself.

Alfred jerked his head around with a hair whip that would have rivaled Feliks'. He looked completely stricken. Kiku was finding himself surprisingly relaxed.

“Sorry everything is so—”

“It's alright. I don't mind.” 

“Uh. Yeah.” Alfred used his foot to shove a pile of conspicuous magazines under his bed, while simultaneously smoothing out the bedsheets. He sat down for a moment, breathing heavily. He motioned to the spot beside him.

“Um, you can sit. If you want.” 

Kiku nodded, taking the seat beside him. For the first time, Kiku noticed how much larger Alfred was than him. At school, Alfred's towering height and full build were hidden in the small, cramped school issued desks and plain uniforms. It was much different, however, to see him with so little clothing, to see his lean torso and thick calves. Kiku was beginning to feel the tell tale signs of self-consciousness creep up on him again, when Alfred launched off of the bed and nearly scared Kiku out of his own skin.

“Shit, um. I should get dressed. Duh. Haha.” The laugh was forced, but the awkwardness in it incited another laugh Kiku didn't know he had in him.

He tripped into jeans and shrugged a hoodie over his shirtless torso. Alfred took a deep breath. He sat down across from Kiku at his computer desk.

“Yeah, so. Um. What brings you here?” 

Kiku laughed, again. He was starting to feel like he was on a roll.


	14. Chapter 14

“You haven't been in school.” Kiku said honestly. Usually, Kiku didn't worry. Then again, usually, Kiku didn't have friends to begin with.

“Yeah, well. What else is new?” 

Alfred was irritated. Kiku realized he hadn't considered that Alfred might be anything but happy to see him. While their last interaction hadn't exactly been World War II, they hadn't left one another as allies, either. Said last interaction had consisted of a painfully awkward situation where Alfred had told a mildly racist joke, and Kiku hadn't even cracked a smile.

Kiku wasn't sure how to remedy the situation. He had the sinking feeling that a formal apology wasn't going to do the trick. He glanced around the room, as if searching for an answer. There was an entire bookshelf packed with books—upon further observation, manga—and at the top there were several action figures of characters Kiku didn't recognize. The posters on his walls ranged from bodacious babes to cowboy bebop. It was an amusingly eclectic mix.

His favorite, however, was most definitely the two small plastic ponies on Alfred's desk, standing seemingly unnoticed by their owner. They were uncharacteristically girly, and well, cute. Kiku had always had a penchant for cute things. Kittens and small knick knacks and onigiri with a smiling face.

“I like your ponies,” he said casually.

Alfred looked horrified.

“Ponies? What do you...?” He glanced around the room, searching for the culprit, before spying them next to his computer monitor. He snatched them up immediately, stuffing them into his pockets as if they'd never existed. He laughed.

“They're, um. My sister's. They're my sister's!”

“Ah,” so they didn't share the same love for cute nicknacks after all. It was a little disappointing, as they shared so few interests already. 

“I wasn't aware you had a sister—”

“He doesn't,” a new voice said flatly. 

Kiku turned his attention to the doorway. For a minute Kiku thought he was seeing double. A blond, blue-eyed, glasses wearing doppelganger was standing in the doorway. At first glance, he looked strikingly similar to Alfred, but it only took a moment of further observation to notice the the bigger build and longer, curlier hair.

“Matt, get out!” Alfred rushed to shut the door on the other man, pushing him, trying to cram the door shut against his body. There were muffled protests until Alfred finally managed to lock the door.

He waved the whole thing off. “Hehheh. Brothers, right? Gotta love them!”

Kiku was sometimes naive, but not this time.

He spoke slowly. “You don't have a sister, do you?”

Alfred laughed.


	15. Chapter 15

Kiku realized with a jolt that Alfred hadn't been asking a rhetorical question. “Yeah, so uh...what's up?”

Kiku didn't really know what to say. Why was he here?

He'd arrived with the intention to apologize, of course, but he wasn't quite sure if that was really the best course of action anymore. They'd had semi-good conversation so far, and to suddenly apologize would surely coat the room in an awkward silence. Not that there wasn't an awkward silence ensuing already, but still, a seemingly random apology definitely wouldn't help things out. 

How would he say it anyway? Kiku was sure a simple, “I apologize” or, “I'm sorry,” wouldn't suffice. With Kiku's luck, Alfred would ask what he was apologizing for instead of merely accepting the apology and letting Kiku know he was forgiven. And just what was he here to apologize for, anyway? For ignoring and avoiding Alfred for two days? It wasn't as if they were best friends, after all.

Alfred coughed. “So, uh...just wanted to stop by, I guess?” 

Kiku wanted to apologize. He really did. He even started to say it. “Alfred, I'm just...I'm, well...”

Then Kiku's mouth made a decision all of it's own, completely separate from anything and everything that Kiku thought was a good idea.

“I was hoping you could help me with Spanish.”

Alfred's eyes widened in surprise, and Kiku wanted to melt into a puddle of humiliated goo on the floor. Kiku waited for the laughter, the joking, and the ridicule. He waited for Alfred to mock him, to tell him, “I told you so,” and to ask for some sort of payment. He waited for Alfred to bring up how the other day, Kiku had failed his Spanish test and nearly fainted from the ordeal.

He waited all for naught, because instead, Alfred beamed and exclaimed: “Alright, cool! Did you bring your Spanish book?”

Luckily enough, Kiku had. He hadn't done it with any sort of premeditated planning, either. Sometimes life just worked liked that, no foresight necessary.


	16. Chapter 16

They spent the rest of that sunny afternoon sprawled out on Alfred's too-small-for-two-people single bed, knocking elbows and bumping wrists as Alfred taught Kiku the ins and outs of Spanish. Alfred explained the similarities between English and Spanish, the simplicity of masculine and feminine, and the complexities of verb conjugation. The more Alfred explained it to him, the more Kiku felt emboldened with the new knowledge.

Once he actually understood the basics, the whole language didn't seem so bad.

It helped that Kiku wasn't the only one struggling with something new. Alfred was as used to being the teacher as much as Kiku was used to receiving the tutoring.

He stumbled over his words often, and more than once taught Kiku something that he later realized wasn't correct, and had to go back and re-teach. Kiku noticed that Alfred was the kind of learner who just knew how to do it right, but didn't understand the hows or whys. It was sort of like knowing how to write an essay with good grammar and spelling, but not actually knowing any grammar rules.

In the beginning, it had made the whole session difficult and confusing, but it was almost as though halfway through, something had clicked in the both of them. It was around that time, when they began to understand each other, when speaking became easy and understanding became almost automatic, that Kiku started to lose track of time.

The light in the room went from early afternoon sun to late evening dusk with little notice. For once, Kiku didn't feel anxious. He didn't pick at his cuticles, worry about what his parents would think, or berate himself for every small mistake. (Alfred had forced him to stop that early on in the tutoring session anyway.) Alfred was the first person that made making mistakes seem like some completely commonplace and acceptable behavior, like something that just happened.

For Kiku, it was like he could let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. He didn't have to keep the air trapped in his lungs, or keep his muscles tense.

Sometimes, Kiku got the answers wrong, and afterward, Alfred would kindly correct him. When Kiku's palms started to sweat, it was almost like Alfred could sense it, because suddenly Alfred would turn to him and remind him of all the answers he'd gotten right. It was an unexpected help.

There was a lot they both weren't saying. Kiku didn't press about whether or not Alfred really had a sister. He didn't ask Alfred where his father was, or why downstairs was full of so much clutter that it was almost impossible to reach the stairs. He most definitely didn't ask Alfred why he rarely showed up at school, especially since Kiku was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

In return, Alfred didn't ask for a single detail about Kiku's home life, and didn't ask him why he'd gotten so shaken up over a grade on a test. Alfred didn't even ask how Kiku had gotten his address, or why he'd been ignoring him at school in the first place.

They were both glad for it. They didn't need to talk about any of that stuff. Kiku just needed a little tutoring in a subject he was having trouble with, and Alfred just needed to teach it to him. When they finished the tutoring session, what they did talk about was the nonsensical.

They talked about favorite colors, favorite foods, and the way they liked their eggs cooked. Alfred eventually confided in Kiku about his love for a children's show about magical ponies, and Kiku confessed that he found Hello Kitty equally as endearing. They talked about Feliks and Feliciano—mostly Kiku complained about how they spoke too loudly, and mostly Alfred speculated about their sexuality.

When it was time to leave, Kiku was frozen between the urge to bow and the urge to shake Alfred's hand. Alfred solved the miniature crisis for him instead, grabbing Kiku with one arm and pulling him into a hug. Kiku tensed, fighting the instinct to shove Alfred away. He wasn't used to physical contact, not even at home, and a hug was most definitely pushing too much into his personal space.

Despite his panic, Alfred didn't let go. He just squeezed a little tighter, almost as if it was Alfred that needed the hug, and not Kiku. Then he pulled back, grinning, as if the few-seconds-too-long hug had never happened. As Kiku turned to leave, a shout from Alfred made him turn back.

“See you at school tomorrow!” Alfred yelled, waving his hand in the air.

Kiku smiled.


	17. Chapter 17

Sometimes, Kiku enjoyed the walk home with Alfred more than the time they spent together when they got there. Maybe it was what people meant when they said that sometimes you have to enjoy the journey more than the destination. This particular journey was proving to be one of the most fascinating ones yet. Alfred had suggested taking a new route, and the weather was prime for such spontaneity. Leaves crackled beneath their feet as they walked with light footfalls, and Autumn reds and browns and golds swirled in front of their faces with each gust of wind. It might have been a little chilly, but Kiku was too distracted by Alfred to notice it, and Alfred was wearing his usual heavy bomber jacket that deflected the cold all too efficiently.

“Are you sure we're going the right way?” Kiku asked as their surroundings became increasingly unfamiliar. 

It was becoming decidedly more tree filled than Kiku was used to. They weren't young, spry, half-bent little saplings that the city had just planted, either. No, these trees were thick towering trunks of maple and birch, trees decades older than either of them.

“I'm sure. What, you don't trust me?” Between studying sessions and purposely long walks home, Kiku realized that somewhere in the mix, he had started to. He did trust Alfred.

Lost in thoughts of recent tutoring sessions and time well spent, Kiku walked face first into Alfred's back. Apparently, they'd arrived. 

Alfred laughed when Kiku apologized, which was unnecessary, but not surprising. The pain in his legs was definitely worth it for the beautiful sight that greeted him. In front of him was a small, secluded field, full of overgrown grass, and shockingly, dragonflies.

They flittered around, hovering ten feet above the ground, flashing vibrant purples and blues and turquoise. 

“It's cool, right?” 

Kiku nodded in awe. Alfred couldn't have possibly known how much this would mean to Kiku. In Japan, dragonflies were considered symbols of happiness, courage, and strength. Kiku thought about the late summer and early autumn days that he'd spent in Okinawa, chasing them with other children in his town. He remembered several famous haikus regarding the beautiful insects, but he was at a loss for translating them to Alfred and maintaining their meaning.

“Dragonflies are very important in Japan,” he said instead.

“Really?”

Kiku nodded again, struggling to translate each line of the haiku in his head. “They remind me of a famous haiku--”

“Haiku? That's a poem, right? I think we had to write them in sixth grade or something.” 

Kiku chuckled, partially relieved that he wouldn't be taxed with the job of conveying the writing of a famous poet across languages.

“What did you write for your haiku?” 

Alfred screwed his face up in concentration. “I think it was something like...Haiku's are real cool, but they don't always make sense, I like potatoes.” He let out a chortle of laughter, and Kiku joined him briefly.

“That was...surprisingly clever,” Kiku said between smiles. 

“Yeah, well it better've been,” Alfred started, heading away from the beautiful insects and back towards his house. “I copied it from the internet.” 

Kiku wasn't sure weather to chastise or congratulate him.


	18. Chapter 18

Kiku liked Alfred's house, despite the overabundance of just, well, stuff. Halloween was coming up, which Kiku had completely forgotten about, and the house was entirely overdecorated. The windows were plastered with cheesy not-at-all-scary decals, there were fake spiderwebs on windowsills, bats and spiders hanging from the ceiling, and in the very front window there was even some kind of fog machine and fake cauldron getup.

“C'mon,” Alfred urged Kiku, quick to usher him into his bedroom. 

Kiku rarely saw other parts of the house, except for one night when Alfred's mother attempted to cook dinner and it was so bad that they all gave up and ordered pizza instead.

Once safely in the confines of his bedroom, Alfred let out of a breath of air and flopped onto his bed. He always carried himself with a forced sense of carelessness, as if beneath the layer of don't-give-a-fuck was a very real feeling of inadequacy and self-consciousness. Alfred sat on his bed and Kiku took his computer chair, Alfred's blue eyes hopping between Kiku's schoolbag and his shelves.

“Should we start right away?” Kiku asked.

Alfred usually wasn't one for efficiency, and they usually dawdled before they got started. Sometimes they even did more dawdling then studying.

“Uh, I wanted to ask you something,” Alfred started. His hand was behind his head again.

Kiku nodded his assent. Alfred rarely prefaced questions like this, usually it was all he could do not to blur it out.

“Do you, um, have you ever---do you watch my little pony?” 

Kiku cocked his head, and before he could even tell Alfred no, he didn't, because he didn't really watch television, but he had seen the advertisements, Alfred had already started backtracking and apologizing and shaking his head. He looked completely embarrassed, and though Kiku could imagine why, he was surprised that Alfred thought he would even care about something like that.

“I know it's stupid, and for kids, and I don't really know why I like it, but--” 

But Kiku knew why he liked it. It was almost too obvious that Alfred didn't really like his home life, and he liked to escape reality in any way that he could, even if it was into an animated television show geared towards young girls.

“It's not stupid,” Kiku said. He reached down and lifted his backpack, pointing to the pink and white pin.

“When I was little I used to watch Hello Kitty all the time. My mother always told me I'd get laughed at, but I didn't care. My grandmother didn't mind either, and she gave me this before she died.”

Alfred looked uncomfortable, struggling for words.

“What I mean, is that I don't care if you like ponies, Alfred. They're cute, and it doesn't affect our friendship. I don't care about things like that.”

Alfred swallowed and nodded, though his fingers were a little shaky.

“I have something like that too, but it's not as cute,” he pulled his jacket tighter around himself, and I waited for him to share, to collect himself and let me in.

“My Dad gave me this before he left. It used to be his.” Kiku nodded quietly, struggling for something to break the silence that had fallen between them.

“I wouldn't mind watching it sometime.”

“Huh?”

“My Little Pony,” Kiku clarified. “I'll watch it with you, if you want.”

As much as Kiku preferred small anthropomorphic kittens, he'd give small, anthropomorphic ponies a try, if that's what Alfred liked.


	19. Chapter 19

Kiku wasn't sure how Alfred had managed to elude him for every lunch period until now. Kiku usually spent his lunchtime quietly eating his homemade bento, reading a book, and catching up on his studies in the small booth towards the back of the lunchroom. Feliks had once invited him to sit at his table, where he sat surrounded by a flurry of chattering females, but Kiku had politely turned him down. The table was far too full of gossip and screeching for Kiku's liking, and he knew that if he sat there, he'd never be able to concentrate.

The first time he saw Alfred walk in, looking out of place and nervous, he waved him over. It made him feel odd, like Alfred was the new kid, instead of the other way around.

“I never see you here,” Kiku remarked as Alfred took the seat across from him.

“Yeah, well...” Alfred struggled briefly to find the words. 

“I never really—I'm not really friends with Feliks, and Feliciano has the other lunch period—not that we're really friends either—and besides, he sits with his terrifying brother anyway, and you know, I'm pretty sure that guy is involved in the local mob, and--”

“Well you can sit with me. Though I'm not very exciting. I usually just catch up on my studies, or read.”

“That's cool! I read too sometimes. When I was little I used to read the Captain Underpants books, they're hilarious man. Ever read those? Oh, and I just finished Harry Potter!”

Kiku sighed, closing his book. 

“Nah man, go ahead. I don't wanna interrupt.” Contrary to his words, Alfred reached across the table, snagging Kiku's book.

“Life of Pie? Like apple, or cherry?” Kiku shook his head.

“His name is Pi,” Kiku corrected.

Predictably, Alfred laughed. Kiku scowled, reaching across the table and snatching the book from Alfred's mocking hands. 

“Pie! What a name!” 

Kiku resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and went back to picking at what little of his lunch was left. He wasn't really hungry, but he was grateful for anything that would distract him from Alfred's aggravating behavior.

“Hey,” Alfred said in a much quieter voice.

“I didn't mean anything by it. I was just kidding. I'm sure it's a great book.” 

He picked the book back off the table, and flipped it open and began reading out loud for good measure. He stumbled over the words a bit.

“Sounds...er, fascinating. And intellectual.” Kiku's lips quirked into a smile.

“Really? Maybe you should give it a read.” Kiku said, trying to maintain a straight face against the laughter that wanted to bubble up his throat.

Alfred's shoulders tensed. “Nah, I mean you're right in the middle of reading, that would be so rude, and--”

“No, I've already read it once. I was just reading it for fun. But I'd much rather it see a new set of eyes.”

Alfred's eye bugged as he searched for an excuse. Kiku smiled wickedly. He couldn't help it, and Alfred did deserve it, after all.

“I insist,” Kiku said, pushing the book back into Alfred's waiting hands.


	20. Chapter 20

Halloween was right around the corner, and Kiku could hardly believe what a big deal Americans made of it. Year after year, he ends up shocked and impressed by the lengths Americans will go to celebrate the gruesome, and yet still miss the mark. Where was the psychological torture, and wads out hair pouring out of the spigot? Kiku started at the nondenominational autumn gourds decorating the classroom, and frowned.

“Probably a sexy bunny,” Feliks said authoritatively, and predictably, Feliciano gushed.

“Really?” Feliciano said, eyes wide and round.

Feliks waved a hand. “Totes. With a like, a little tail and ears and shit.”

“What are you going to be Feli?” Feli was the nickname that Feliks had taken to calling Feliciano, invented sometime between yesterday's Algebra class and now.

“I don't know, maybe...pasta?” 

Kiku wasn't surprised about that either.

“Ew. That's food. That's not sexy,” Feliks chastised, looking disgusted. 

Feliciano frowned. “Um, maybe I can be a cat?” 

Feliks lowered his voice before whispering. “I dunno, I heard Mr. Beilschmidt has like five dogs or something.”

Kiku couldn't stop the assault of adorable images that burst into his mind, of Feliciano with cute little puppy ears and a tail. Kiku almost wished he were dressing up too. He'd never dressed up for Halloween before. They turned to Alfred next, who was looking more bored than Kiku had ever seen him, and seeing as they shared Algebra class together, that was saying something. Alfred shrugged when they asked him what he was going to wear to the party.

“I'm not going,” he muttered. “I'm trick-or-treating.”

Feliks burst into loud laughter, though Feliciano tried to look sympathetic. 

“Aren't you like, five years too old for tricks and treats?”

Alfred ducked his head and hid the hurt well, but Kiku caught the wisps of it in the corners of his eyes. 

“Fuck you,” he mumbled. “Free candy, man,” he reiterated, shrugging his shoulders.

“So whaddayou gonna dress up as, wittle Alfred? Spiderman, a fairy princess?” 

Kiku thought that jab was definitely unfair, especially considering the fact that Feliks was going to be a sexy rabbit. 

“Nah man, fuck you. I'm gonna be Jason, like with the hockey mask.”

Kiku wasn't sure who Jason was, but Feliks rolled his eyes when he said it. He'd expected Alfred to announce he was going to be anyone from Superman to Ash Ketchum, but hardly someone as average and normal sounding as Jason—whoever he was. 

“What're you gonna be Kiku,” Feliks asked, interrupting his thoughts. 

“Oh, I'm not dressing up,” Kiku corrected politely. 

His parents would never let him get away with something as foolish and American as dressing up for Halloween. 

“Of course he is!” 

Alfred interjected, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Alfred had become more and more touchy feely lately, and while it hadn't bothered Kiku when they were alone in his room studying, here, in the middle of Algebra class it made him feel strange and uncomfortable.

“Oh my gosh! You guys should totally dress up together!” Feliks said excitedly, clapping his hands. Alfred cast him a quizzical look but Feliks continued on before Kiku could even get in a word edgewise. “I got it! If you're gonna be Jason, Kiku, you can like, totally be his victim!” 

Feliks grinned, and a small smile slipped onto Alfred's face.

“That's the first good idea you've ever had,” he admitted. 

Alfred turned to Kiku, blue eyes shining with a smile that Kiku just couldn't turn down

“What do you think Kiku, wanna be my victim?” Kiku sighed.

He supposed he'd be dressing up after all, and he'd have to start fishing for good excuses immediately because this wasn't going to be an easy one to slide by his parents.

“As long as you acquire the costume,” Kiku said at last.


	21. Chapter 21

Trick or treating went far better than Kiku expected. His parents were working late, and even then, they'd accepted Kiku's feeble excuse about late-night studying with a friend from school without so much as batting their eyelashes. Sure, trailing behind groups of four year olds and their parents was kind of awkward, and sometimes they got weird looks when Alfred loudly exclaimed “trick or treat!” but it was definitely worth it—for a couple of reasons.

First and foremost, Kiku got to inwardly gush over the sheer amount of cuteness that surrounded him. Kiku had expected horror and gore, but instead most of the children were just plain adorable. Little girls dressed up like like princesses, butterflies, and animals, while little boys dressed up like spiderman and superman and power rangers. The smallest of children—toddlers that could barely walk and infants pushed in strollers—were dressed like up like bumblebees and ladybugs, and there was even one dressed up as a Hershey kiss that was so fat Kiku could barely handle it.

“So cute,” Kiku whispered to Alfred, subtly gesturing to a little girl with cat ears. It made him think of Feliciano, and he wondered briefly if he and Feliks were enjoying themselves at the party.

Alfred rolled his eyes. “Halloween is supposed to be blood and guts—scary stuff!” 

Kiku laughed as they started towards Alfred's house. It was getting late and the houses were starting to run out of candy, the children slowly petering out as parents took them home for bedtime. By the time they made it back Kiku's feet were sore and his arms ached from carrying the heavy pillowcase full of candy.

The house was dark and the living room was strangely empty. 

“My Mom and Mattie are out,” Alfred explained as he turned on all the lights on the first floor. Kiku thought that maybe that was a waste of electricity, but he didn't voice his opinion. Alfred hurried to elaborate. “Not the same party, I mean! Mattie's at that one that with Feliks and Feliciano.” 

Kiku nodded, but there wasn't much he had to say on the matter.

“That means we can watch scary movies down here—it's gonna be awesome. The screen is way bigger!” Alfred grinned, dashing for the steps.

“Be right back, I'm gonna grab my xbox and my external hard drive!” 

Kiku nodded, arranging the sheet that was draped over the couch and gingerly taking a seat. He wished Alfred had told him what they'd be doing in advance—he would have brought a flash drive with a few horror movies of his own. Alfred wasn't the only one up to date on technology or into horrific flicks.

Alfred came down the steps in a tangle of wires, struggling to carry everything at once. The setup only took a few minutes, but the selection seemed to last for hours. Alfred couldn't make a decision to save his life, and every time he seemed about to pick, he would shake his head and go back to all of the movies, tapping his foot nervously as if what movie they'd watch was some sort of life-changing decision. 

Kiku couldn't stand it anymore. “The Grudge is good,” Kiku said hopefully when Alfred hovered over it.

Alfred cringed but forced a smile. Did he not like some of the movies he'd added to his own movie collection?

“You don't mind that it's the Japanese one—” Alfred started, before stopping himself and bursting into laughter. Kiku quirked a brow and smiled softly. 

“I've seen it already but I haven't seen a movie in Japanese in a while. Cool.” 

Alfred grinned, jumping up to make popcorn and turn off all of the lights. Sometimes Kiku really didn't understand him.

One blanket and two bowls of popcorn later, Kiku was beginning to regret his movie choice. Alfred was still tapping his foot nervously, and he tensed his body every few seconds as if preparing for an incoming attack. When the “scary” stuff started happening, Alfred screamed. Every time.

And then every time Alfred screamed he felt it was necessary to pause the movie and—

“Sorry, ahahaha, I don't usually do that, it's just,” --make up excuses for himself. 

Kiku didn't really care very much that Alfred screamed, so as long as it wasn't so close to his ear. They were supposed to be scary movies, after all. Just because they didn't frighten Kiku didn't mean they wouldn't frighten others.

“It's fine Alfred, let's just watch the movie,” Kiku said, trying not to sigh.

By the end of the movie Alfred was was watching from between his fingers, shaking like they were stuck in the Arctic Ocean. Who would have guessed that Alfred would be so afraid of something as silly as a horror flick?

Still, Kiku had to admit that even he jumped just a little bit when the front door slammed open during a particularly tense moment of the film. Kiku recognized Alfred's brother almost immediately. He waved while Alfred peeked out from beneath the covers, so close to Kiku that he could feel Alfred's body heat.

“You still watching horror movies, Al?” Mathew said, words slurring slightly and smelling like alcohol. Alfred quickly tried to compose himself, forcing a laugh.

“You know me, I'm not afraid of anything!”

Matthew rolled his eyes and kicked the door shut behind himself. “Yeah well I hope Kiku is spending the night because you're not sleeping in my bed.”.

“Haha!” Alfred said loudly as Matthew flipped on the light switch, illuminating the living room and the spilled popcorn covering the blanket. 

“Yeah right Mattie! You mean when I let you sleep in my bed because you were scared!”

Matthew laughed dismissively as he made his way up the stairs. “Whatever you say Al. Just keep it down, I'm having company soon,” Matthew muttered, slamming his bedroom door shut. 

Alfred rubbed nervously at the base of his neck. “You can spend the night if you want,” he offered. “Not because I'm scared, just cause like—”

Kiku resisted the urge to roll his eyes, as if Alfred wasn't as see through as the plot to the movie. “I'd be honored.”


	22. Chapter 22

The movie had long since ended, and after begrudgingly cleaning up the popcorn, they’d finally made it into bed. It was a typical Halloween night in America, he could hear it even through his closed eyelids - the shuffling of late night trick-or-treaters, the howling wind, and echoed screams of of drunk teenagers tossing toilet paper over someone’s house. Halfway into wondering where crickets went in the winter, Alfred’s hesitant voice dragged him back to reality. 

“Hey, Kiku?” Alfred whispered quietly into the dark bedroom. 

“Yes, Alfred?” he asked, trying to keep his patience.

“Are you awake?” This time Kiku couldn't hold back his sigh. 

Alfred hastily apologized. “I didn't mean to wake you up,” he added quietly.

Kiku rolled his eyes in the darkness. Of course Kiku hadn't been asleep. How exactly was one supposed to fall asleep when there was loud music blaring from one bedroom over, and a loud blond teenager just a few feet above him tossing and turning on a squeaky bed? It didn't help that every few minutes the silence was broken with a quiet whisper of his name.

“It's okay,” Kiku managed calmly. “I was already awake.” 

“Oh.” The words faded into the quiet darkness, and Kiku sighed a second time.

“What did you want again, Alfred?”

“Oh! Yeah uh, I just wanted to see if you were awake.” 

Of course. Kiku wondered if this was the usual recourse at American sleepovers. Were they ironically named? Did any sleeping ever actually take place at these events? Was Kiku the one being rude—trying to sleep when clearly they were supposed to be making small talk in the dark while staring at the ceiling? Well, Kiku wouldn't make the same mistake twice. He heaved himself forward, propping himself up on his elbows.

“So, did you enjoy the most recent episode of My Little Pony?” Kiku asked, trying to make out Alfred on his bed in the dark room. 

Alfred promptly burst into laughter. Kiku wondered what part of his dialogue could have been possibly misconstrued as humorous. The episode of My Little Pony hadn't been particularly hilarious either--Kiku was sure--he'd watched the entire thing himself late at night with headphones on so that his parents wouldn't ask him why he wasn't doing homework instead.

“Was that a poor conversation choice?” Kiku asked honestly. He figured he'd known Alfred long enough to warrant a little truth, at least. 

“No, it's just that--” Alfred started, trying to calm his laughter. “Yeah, I did actually. It was great. You, um--” and Kiku couldn't see his hand, but he knew Alfred enough now, knew it was probably at the nape of his neck, moving nervously.

“You watched it?” Alfred asked, hopeful.

Kiku nodded. “Purely for observational purposes, of course. I wanted to find out what it was about the show you enjoyed so much.”

“Oh,” Alfred said, excitement replaced with a sad, bereft little voice.

Alfred became unusually quiet then, something that was never a good sign. Kiku reviewed the dialogue in his head, searching for the social misstep. He found it quite easily—he was getting used to the American, in a way.

“That isn't to say I didn't enjoy it.” 

Kiku could see Alfred's smile, even in the darkness. His smile had an uncanny ability to light up a room. At times, it was almost blinding. Though lately, it seemed less overwhelming and more of a beacon of light. Kiku wasn't too sure how he felt about those thoughts. He decided to ignore them, and focus on far simpler things, things like animated shows about ponies, for example.

“Except for that one pony. Ah, unicorn, I mean.” Kiku couldn't remember their names. They were all such silly, glittery sounding things.

“Twilight Sparkle? Yeah, she's a bitch,” Alfred said, laughing. 

His usual enthusiasm quickly returned, perhaps even more so than before. Alfred's emotions were intense and sudden, teetering on the edge of excitement and plummeting into disappointment and back with seconds to spare. Still, he was almost predictable in a way that Kiku found strangely calming. He was beginning to learn the way Alfred talked, the way he walked, and the things that were important to him. The more predictable the person, the more easily Kiku could navigate their relationship. 

Alfred was still going on and on, explaining how no one else knew about his secret interest in ponies—except for Matthew—but apparently he didn't count. 

“Who's your favorite?” Alfred asked. Kiku struggled for an answer—he'd only seen one episode, after all. 

“The one with rainbow hair?” Kiku struggled for her name. She was a pegasus, or something.

“Rainbow Dash? She's everyone's favorite,” Alfred said with a huff.

Kiku shrugged. He liked her brashness, her boldness, and the way she sometimes didn't think things through too clearly before rushing into trouble. Her lack of forethought was almost endearing.

“Who is your favorite then?”

Alfred swallowed loud enough that Kiku could hear it from the blankets below his bed on the floor.

“Pinkie Pie,” he said in the quietest, smallest voice Kiku had ever heard him use. 

If only Alfred could be so quiet at school, when they weren't even supposed to be talking at all.

“The pink one?” Kiku asked for clarification. 

Alfred cringed. “Uh, yeah,” he swallowed again. “The pink one.”

“Like your favorite color,” Kiku said casually.

There was an unexpected clamor as something hit the floor with a thump. Kiku looked up to find himself with a lap-full of Alfred. He quickly scrambled backwards, looking completely aghast. 

“My-my-my,” Alfred started, and Kiku wondered if he was going to sit there all night stuttering or if he was going to finish his sentence. 

“Your favorite color,” Kiku supplied. “It is pink, isn't it?” Unless he'd somehow misjudged.

Alfred rapidly shook his head no, but when he spoke it was: “How did you—”

Kiku shrugged. It wasn't difficult to tell when you paid attention. It showed in small ways around Alfred's room, things like the pens poorly hidden behind his keyboard, in the shirt on the floor that he'd never seen Alfred wear.

“Observation,” Kiku said, smiling. Alfred scowled.

“Well, it's not like—not a gay thing, okay?” 

Kiku had forgotten the way Alfred was hung up about homosexuals. 

“While purple is clearly the superior color choice, I hold no judgement,” Kiku said, smiling.


	23. Chapter 23

After dragging Alfred out of bed and into school, Kiku spent most of his morning classes lamenting his lack of sleep and furrowing his brow. His brain was sluggish and slow to respond, and Kiku felt unbearably short tempered and cranky. To make matters worse, Kiku was still wearing his clothes from the day before, unwashed and full of wrinkles. Feliciano and Feliks sounded especially loud to Kiku’s sleep deprived ears. 

“You’re like, a total brown-noser!” Feliks exclaimed. 

Feliciano giggled. “No way! My puppy costume was great!” 

Kiku tried his best to concentrate as Feliks and Feliciano chattered about the party, about who was there and who wore the sluttiest costume, about who hooked up with who and forgot to wear a condom. He even listened to the part where Feliks vomited and Feliciano had to hold his hair. What Kiku didn’t understand is why the two of them felt the need to recap their last night’s activities, what with them just having experienced the entire debacle less than twenty four hours ago.

“Too bad Mr. Beilschmidt wasn’t there to see your costume, huh?” Feliks said, jabbing Feliciano with his elbow. 

Feliciano looked crestfallen. “I asked him if I could wear it to school but he got really mad and started yelling,” he said quietly. 

Feliks scoffed. “What a total deutschbag!”

Feliciano admonished Feliks with a half-cracked smile while several students snickered from behind them. Kiku was surprised to find Alfred just as silent and unamused as himself, half-lidded eyes peeking out from over his forearm. Feliks stretched himself across his desk until he was nearly leaning on Alfred, staring pointedly into his averted eyes. 

“It’s like douchebag, but instead of douche, I said deuts, cause that’s like, Germany or whatever,” Feliks explained. Alfred blinked slowly but otherwise kept his mouth shut. Feliks stared expectantly at him. “Get it? It’s funny.”

Kiku could see the moment Alfred’s irritation boiled over into a frothing rage, but he could do nothing to stop it. Alfred’s eyebrows narrowed, creating a deep wrinkle in his forehead. His eyelid twitched once and he pressed his lips against each other until they were nothing but a thin, colorless line. His adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, jaw locked. Unobservant and self-absorbed, Feliks never saw it coming. 

Alfred stood, desk screeching against the floor. “No one gives a shit about your stupid party!” He didn’t stop there. Oh, if only. “So why don’t you shut your faggot mouth? Because nobody cares!”

Feliks eyes were livid as he stood in front of Alfred, unperturbed by the several inches separating their height. “What’s wrong with you today?” Kiku found himself echoing the same question. “Accidentally think about your Dad during your last jerkoff session or what?”

The class erupted in a loud, drawn out, “ooooohhhhh,” and Mr. Beilschmidt struggled to quiet them. Kiku’s eyes darted between Feliks and Alfred, trying to find a way to neutralize the oncoming confrontation. Was Alfred capable of listening to reason? Kiku liked to think of Alfred as his friend, but would he willing to hear Kiku out?

Kiku was too little too late, and Feliks fell to the tiled floor with a resounding crack. Alfred gaped at his own bloody knuckles as students rushed to crowd them. The class erupted into chaos when Feliks struggled to his feet, licking the blood from his lips. Kiku was between them before anyone could throw another punch. He could hear Mr. Beilschmidt on the phone, reporting the incident and calling for security. Feliks gave Kiku an expectant look.

“Um,” Kiku started, nervous with the entire class watching his every move.

Feliks wiped blood from his nose on the back of wrist and winced. “Better rein in your dog,” Feliks muttered, spitting blood onto the classroom floor. “Before someone puts him down.”

Kiku’s breath caught in his throat, but he choked out a response anyway. “Alfred, why don’t we step into the hallway?”

The first thing Alfred did was apologize. “I didn’t mean to hit him,” he said. 

Kiku sighed. Since when had he made it a habit to befriend violent Americans? “You didn’t mean to hit him, yet you threw a punch.”

Alfred shook his head. “Okay, I meant to hit him. But, uh...” he scratched at the nape of his neck and chewed on his bottom lip. “I didn’t mean to hit him that hard.”

Kiku sighed, feeling anger of his own rising in his chest. “Why would you hit him at all? He’s our friend!” 

Alfred’s eyes widened. “Shit,” he muttered, sounding surprised. “He is, isn’t he?”

Kiku nodded his head. He’d never acknowledged the thought out loud, but in a strange way it was true. Both Feliciano and Feliks has wormed their way into his heart, and despite their nonstop chatter and over-enthusiasm, Kiku realized that he cared about them. 

“Why did you,” Kiku made vague hand motions in the chilled hallway. “React that way. Why were you so angry?”

Alfred shrugged. “I don’t know. He just wouldn’t shut up--”

Kiku couldn’t have stopped himself from interrupting if he wanted to. “He never shuts up.”

“I know,” Alfred struggled for words. “He just wouldn’t shut up about the party, I mean. Who cares about that party anyway, right? It’s like he thinks he’s better than us just because he got invited.”

Kiku didn’t think that was the case at all. Feliks thought he was better than everyone else because he was self-centered and pompous, not because he was invited to a party that Alfred wasn’t. 

“He’s not any better than me or you,” Kiku explained carefully, wary of stepping on hurt feelings.

Alfred’s chest heaved when he let out a deep breath of air. “I know,” he said. “He’s a faggot, so it’s not like he’ll ever be normal, much less better than us.”

That wasn’t what Kiku was trying to explain at all. Kiku opened his mouth to try a different phrasing, but he was interrupted before he could begin. Two uniformed men were standing beside Alfred. 

“Let’s go Jones,” said the first one. “We’re escorting you the counselor’s office.”

Alfred frowned, shouldering their hands away when they tried to touch him. He waved before turning to follow them, and Kiku waved back. He watched them walk down the hallway until they disappeared around a corner, his hand still hovering uselessly in the air. Maybe things would be better this way.


	24. Chapter 24

Sixth period Wednesday afternoon and Kiku still hadn’t seen Alfred since he’d left for the counselor’s office the day before. To say Kiku was worried would be a grave understatement. Feliks wasn’t in school today either, and Kiku feared that Alfred was possibly serving jail time for assault, or even worse, expelled. Feliciano hadn’t spoken to him during Algebra, just cast a worried glance over his shoulder before averting his eyes when Kiku caught him in the act.

Stress made it nearly impossible to concentrate, and after thirty minutes of feeling brain dead and frustrated, Kiku stopped trying. Psychology wasn’t exactly something Kiku was naturally gifted in, but he figured he could always reread the textbook when get got home. Kiku flipped to a clean page in his notebook and used his forearm to shield his lack of educational enthusiasm from the teacher.

Kiku lost himself in his sketches easily, brow furrowed in concentration. The mechanical pencil glided in Kiku’s fingers and when inspiration struck his heart Psychology class faded into muffled background noise. Kiku saw Alfred’s eyes, wide and round, and a strong jawline below them. Alfred’s smile was crooked in the corner, his teeth imperfectly off-white. His hair was always parted a little awkwardly, with that silly little cowlick curling backwards in the front.

“That’s pretty accurate,” said a voice. 

Kiku threw his arms over his notebook, covering the picture and smearing graphite with his skin. For a brief moment Kiku almost thought it was Alfred. Luckily, Kiku wasn’t one to speak before thinking. 

“Matthew,” Kiku said slowly, struggling to catch his breath. “Nice to see you again.”

Matthew slid into the desk beside him and Kiku’s eyes widened. “We’re supposed to be working in groups, remember?” 

Kiku nodded his head absentmindedly. Had he been that lost in thought?

“Don’t worry,” Matthew said, and Kiku realized the constant need for verbalization must be genetic. “I won’t tell my brother you draw creepy pictures of him.” Kiku let out a breath of air and a nod. “Even if they are good,” he added with a smile. 

Matthew had a surprising knack for Psychology, and they managed to finish their assignment with fifteen minutes to spare. Kiku was hoping to spend it rereading what he’d missed earlier in class but Matthew chose the time to pry. 

“Have you seen Alfred at all? You two are still friends, right?” he asked eagerly.

Kiku nodded his head. “Haven’t seen him since he went to the counselor’s office yesterday.”

Matthew’s eyes widened and Kiku realized too late that he’d said the wrong thing. “Why was Alfred being sent to the counselor?”

Kiku swallowed. “Um,” he said nervously. “I think that...perhaps that is something you should ask him yourself.”

Matthew narrowed his eyes and Kiku’s heart stalled in his chest. “You tell me what happened with my brother, and I won’t tell my him that you draw weird pictures of him whenever he’s not around.”

“Only once,” Kiku clarified. “I do not make a habit of...” Kiku’s eyes shifted to the drawing beneath his arms.

Matthew shook his head. “Just tell me what Alfred did this time.”

Kiku’s fidgeted in his lap, picking at his own nails. He couldn’t betray Alfred’s trust like that, even if was to his own brother and possibly for his own good. Still, Alfred needed help in ways Kiku knew he couldn’t provide. 

“I accept your deal, under one condition.”

Kiku recapped the entire incident in a monosyllabic whispers. Everything from the way Feliks flipped his hair to the venom in Alfred’s voice when he called him a faggot. Matthew thanked him when he finished and Kiku grabbed his shirtsleeve before he could stand at the sound of the dismissal bell.

“But you didn’t hear it from me,” Kiku reaffirmed.


	25. Chapter 25

Alfred was back in English class the next day with a scowl. He dropped his backpack on the floor and slouched into his chair, but Kiku was still grateful to see him. Kiku passed him the pencil he was certain Alfred forgot to bring, but Alfred merely sat motionlessly as it rolled across his desk. To complete his moodiness he crossed his arms in front of his chest and narrowed his eyebrows in the perfection definition of a pout. 

Kiku tried to be careful with his words. “Alfred, is something wrong?”

Alfred exploded like an uncovered minefield. “Everything’s fine!” he shouted, and as if the noise wasn’t enough, he stood at his desk and slammed his hands against faux wood. “This is fucking bullshit!” he announced. Every pair of eyes in the room, including the teacher, swiveled to Alfred’s impressively childish display of anger. 

Mr. Kirkland remained surprisingly calm. Lips pursed in a thin line and eyes focused on Alfred’s, Mr. Kirkland asked him to leave the classroom and wait in the hallway until he can find the time to properly speak to him. Kiku finished the lesson aggravated and lonely. Just what was up with Alfred lately? Kiku was trying his best to be supportive, but he was met with backlash at every turn. 

There was five minutes left in the class period when Mr. Kirkland called on Kiku.

“Kiku,” Mr. Kirkland said from the doorway. The sound of his own name startled him, and Kiku was beginning to wonder if he’d ever get used to being addressed in such a casual first name basis. “Outside, please.”

Time ticked by with a painstaking slowness while Kiku was forced to endure Mr. Kirkland’s well-intended but ultimately useless rambling.

“Shit Mr. Kirkland, my bad,” Alfred said, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets. Mr. Kirkland sighed and Alfred caught himself too late. “Fuck, I mean! Crap. I mean.” Mr. Kirkland tapped his foot impatiently. “Shoot. I meant shoot.” 

Mr. Kirkland looked unimpressed. “No more god awful shouting in my class, are we clear?”

Alfred nodded his head in defeat and quickly averted his eyes when Kiku caught his attention. Mr. Kirkland opened his mouth to speak but the loud ringing of the dismissal bell cut him short. He forced a smile and allowed his eyes to linger on Alfred’s before maneuvering around the wave of students exiting his classroom. The door shut and the hallway became crowded but Alfred only seemed more uneasy.

Kiku took a deep breath. “Alfred?” he asked, hesitantly, wary of another overreaction. 

Alfred dragged his eyes back to Kiku, distracted. “Sorry about, well, earlier,” he said, eyes darting back down the length of the hallway. 

“This shit with Mr. Braginsky is just really pissing me off,” he elaborated, attention still split. 

“Don’t you mean Dr. Braginsky?” Kiku corrected.

Alfred shrugged. “Whatever. The point is--”

The words died on Alfred’s lips as Kiku waited for an explanation that never came. Alfred’s hand was at the nape of his neck and Kiku was almost certain he was breaking a sweat. Kiku tried following Alfred’s eyes to find the source of his apprehension, but they jerked away and refocused on the floor before Kiku could figure out anything useful. 

“Alfred?” Kiku repeated cautiously, but the teen merely flipped the hood of his sweatshirt up and over his head, hunching into himself. 

Alfred pressed himself back against the door and craned his neck as if trying to see over the crowd. Kiku glimpsed where Alfred’s eyes were focused but without an explanation the dark haired boy towering over the rest of the students meant nothing. He elbowed one of his oversized friends and Alfred’s hand tightened around the doorknob.

Kiku stepped fully into the hallway to see the face more clearly, and when he turned back Alfred was anxiously prying open the door.

Alfred could barely stammer out an explanation when Kiku cast him a quizzical look. “I’m getting, uh--extra help!” 

The door shut in Kiku’s face as Alfred disappeared, and the small group of seniors passed by Kiku without incident. The late bell nearly startled Kiku out of his own skin and he was forced to scramble to his next class alone and confused.


	26. Chapter 26

Thanksgiving snuck up on Kiku and caught him completely off guard. It wasn’t until the day before when everyone was excitedly discussing their Thursday dinner plans that Kiku had even realized anything was amiss. Sure, he’d seen the neat little “Thanksgiving Day” label on his calendar at home, but he hadn’t given it much thought. At home Kiku was accustomed to celebrating a similar holiday, but the thanks of the Japanese citizens was always given to those who deserved it--the workers. 

“My family is going to make a huge turkey,” Feliciano announced. 

Brooding silently on the other side of him was Feliks, sitting sullenly in his chair the same as he’d been doing ever since the blowout fight between him and Alfred. Nothing much had become of the incident aside from Alfred’s forced bi-weekly visits to the counselor’s office and Feliks’ bad attitude, but Kiku was more than finished with both consequences. After becoming accustomed to lunch with Alfred, without him the lunch table seemed impossibly long and empty. And while Feliks’ initial refusal to talk was at first a huge relief, Feliks’ had somehow perfected the art of being the loudest person in the classroom without ever uttering a word. 

“Everyone’s family is making a huge turkey,” Alfred said. “Cranberry sauce,” he added in a singsong voice. Feliciano smiled. “Mashed potatoes and stuffing,” Alfred continued on. 

Feliciano’s giggle was cut off by Feliks slamming his heavy textbook onto the desk. Mr. Beilschmidt’s eyes darted briefly to the sound of the noise but he remained unfazed.

Feliciano chewed on his bottom lip, before tentatively trying to goad Feliks into conversation. “So, Feliks, is your family going to cook too?” 

Scoffing and turning away, Feliks pointedly focused on his textbook. Feliciano gave up with a sad smile and turned to Kiku. “What about you?”

Kiku shrugged. “In Japan we have a similar holiday, but it’s not possible to celebrate when we aren’t in Japan.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “So what, you mean your family ain’t making a turkey?”

Kiku cast his eyes meekly to his Algebra worksheet. “It appears that way.”

That wasn’t the answer Alfred wanted to hear. He and Feliciano responded as if Kiku’s lack of holiday feast was the biggest injustice of this century. They tried to herald him into the excitement (or make him jealous, Kiku couldn’t be sure) by explaining to him everything he’d be missing out on, all the delicious food he wouldn’t get to taste and all the relaxation and family bonding he would be woefully unable to experience.

Feliks scoffed and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, loudly rustling his textbook as he boredly flipped through the pages. Kiku sighed and Alfred’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm.

“Have Thanksgiving with me!” he announced, and Kiku quickly tried to come up with a reasonable excuse as to why he couldn’t attend. 

A repetitive clang reached Kiku’s ears, and after looking around he realized that Feliks had begun to knock the heel of his shoe against the metal basket beneath his chair. The sound magnified Feliks continued the motion, and Kiku found that he was having a difficult time concentrating. Sure, at first glance Thanksgiving with the Jones’ wasn’t a half-bad idea, but Kiku knew when it came down to explaining the absence to his family any expectations about having a good time would crumble and disappear. 

“My parents wouldn’t approve of such an American custom,” Kiku said nervously. 

In all honesty he wanted to go. He had no pressing academic matters to attend to and a home cooked meal with Alfred sounded a lot more exciting than absentmindedly browsing the internet and playing Nintendo all day. 

“C’mon, they’ll let you!” Alfred wheedled. 

Kiku shook his head. “Alfred, I don’t think you understand. When I was a child they hardly approved of me having a single friend.”

Alfred shrugged. “It’s different now! You aren’t in private school anymore, and besides, they let you sleep over on Halloween!”

Feliks’ head swiveled in Alfred’s direction so quickly that his hair was left mid-air in it’s struggle to keep up. He tried to mask his interest when he noticed Kiku watching but it was already too late. Their eyes met briefly before Feliks turned away. 

“I don’t know Alfred,” Kiku said apprehensively. While it was true that his parents had recently displayed and unusual level of generosity, the likelihood that it would happen again was pretty slim. 

“Oh come on,” Alfred complained. “Please,” he begged. Kiku couldn’t help but wonder why this was so important to Alfred all of a sudden. “C’mon,” he said again. “Mattie’s bringing his girlfriend and it’s gonna be awkward with me just sitting there while my Mom gushes all over the place. I’m gonna be like a fourth wheel in my own house.”

Kiku tried not to fidget while his mind raced with the possible outcomes of agreeing. 

“It’s worth a shot, right?” Feliciano said encouragingly. 

A thought struck Kiku and he figured that maybe Feliciano was onto something. “Ano...Alfred. I would enjoy spending the holiday with you, so I suppose I can at least ask.” Alfred’s celebratory cheer was cut short. “As long as you promise to do something for me,” Kiku finished. 

Alfred looked so confused that Kiku almost wanted to retract the words and gobble them back up. He wasn’t accustomed to asking for favors, but the feud between Feliks and Alfred wasn’t going to meet its end any other way. 

“Shoot,” Alfred said. Kiku scrunched up his eyes in bemusement. Alfred hurriedly tried to explain. “It means like--forget it. What do I owe you?”

Kiku leaned across his desk and lowered his voice to a whisper. Lips just a few inches away from Alfred’s ear, Kiku realized this was the closest he’d been to someone since he was a small child. “Apologize to Feliks,” Kiku said, so softly that he could barely hear his own voice when the words left his mouth.


	27. Chapter 27

Kiku’s parents were so shockingly blase about the entire situation that Kiku couldn’t help but become suspicious. They were out of the house just as often as usual and were otherwise behaving normally, but Kiku still felt uneasy. Not one to jump to conclusions, Kiku let the moment pass and focused on Alfred’s elation. He’d tried to push for another sleepover but Kiku had politely declined, opting to instead walk the twenty minutes to Alfred’s house early that Thursday afternoon. 

When Kiku knocked on Alfred’s door at one-thirty, he was shocked to find that dinner was already being served. Alfred awkwardly ushered him towards a dining room table that Kiku had never seen before. Whether that was because the addition was new or because it had previously been covered by a mountain of junk and garbage, Kiku couldn’t be sure. It was obvious that they’d picked up the house a bit, and though it didn’t do much good for the overall situation, at least Kiku could clearly see the floor in some areas.

Alfred pulled out a chair and Kiku sat down across from a young woman who appeared to be his own age or close to it. The chair beside Kiku was pulled out from the table with a creak, and Alfred took his place beside him, banging on the tabletop while clutching a fork. Kiku cringed. He hadn’t expected Alfred to be able to embarrass him at his own family’s dinner, but here he was, accomplishing just that. 

Alfred’s mom hurried between rooms to finish setting the table, excited. Kiku stood when she entered the room mostly on autopilot, and he was offering her help before he knew what he was saying.

“No, I’ve got hun,” she assured him. “Thanks for offering though,” she said with a smile, sending a glare in Alfred’s direction. 

Alfred scowled at Kiku before following her into the kitchen, leaving Kiku to awkwardly attempt small talk with his brother’s girlfriend.

“Hello,” he said quietly. When her eyes focused on his face his darted sidelong to the clock. “I’m Kiku,” Kiku said softly. “Nice to meet you.”

Kiku didn’t think it was possible, but the girl answers in an even softer tone than his own. “I’m Lilli,” she all but whispered. “Nice to meet you Kiku.”

Matthew burst from the kitchen carrying a huge bowl of mashed potatoes and Alfred was quick to follow, boastfully clutching the plate and displaying a perfectly roasted turkey. Kiku almost felt guilty with relief when everyone was finally seated and he no longer had to force Lilli into unnatural conversation. Matthew reached for the carving knife but Alfred snatched it before his fingers could properly close around the hilt.

“The man of the house carves the turkey,” Alfred announced. 

Matthew rolled his eyes and sighed but sat back down beside Lilli, content to let Alfred’s misconstrued ideas about masculinity fester. Their mother chuckled and for the first time since Kiku had met the woman she appeared genuinely happy, eyes alert and content instead of weighed down with restlessness and worry. Kiku was waiting for Alfred’s mother to start some sort of pre-dinner Christian praying affair when she announced:

“Let’s dig in!”

Dinner wasn’t exactly what Kiku was used to, but despite the unfamiliar textures and tastes his biggest complaint had nothing to do with the food at all. No, the real issue at hand was the overwhelming level of noise. It became clear to Kiku in that moment that Alfred, Matthew, and his mother were suffering from a serious disease that made it impossible for them to cease conversation. They all had their own sense style of communicating: Matthew talked quietly between bites of food, their mother made it a point to comment at least six times on each conversation topic, and Alfred was the worst of all--speaking while open-mouthed chewing and even going as so far as to talk over others that were already speaking. 

Kiku might not have been surprised if they’d been discussing a heated subject--politics or religion, perhaps--but never before had Kiku seen so many people red faced and passionate about the proper way to cook a turkey.

“I’m telling you,” Alfred mumbled, mouth full of peas and mashed potatoes. “Deep fried makes everything better!”

Matthew threw his hands into the air in exasperation while their mother shook her head. “Slow baking is traditional,” she explained. 

Matthew was quick to interject. “Besides, you love stuffing. And you can’t put stuffing in a deep fried turkey--”

Alfred scoffed and when he opened his mouth Kiku could see bits of food and spittle flying across the table. It was one of the least attractive things Kiku had ever witnessed Alfred do (and given Alfred’s tendency to flick boogers across the classroom, that was saying something.) 

“You can totally deep fry stuffing!” Alfred argued. 

Matthew rolled his eyes. “That sounds disgusting.”

Their mother smiled and shook her head. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.”

“I thought the argument here was that deep frying a turkey would be better, as in more delicious.”

“And I’m right. Everything's better deep fried and you know it!” Alfred’s voice steadily rose in volume as he gesticulated with hands. “Name one food item that isn’t better deep fried!”

“Salads!” Matthew said immediately. 

“I meant food for men, not food for rabbits!” Alfred shouted. 

Kiku’s ears were buzzing as he tried to follow the conversation, English flying over his head at rapid speed. His mind was becoming cluttered with such a barrage of nonsensical noise that he could barely hear himself think. He was fairly certain he understood the gist of the situation, but what did Americans have to be so loud?

“We’re loud because that’s how you win a conversation!” Alfred declared. 

With much shame, Kiku realized that thanks to all the pandemonium he’d spoken that last thought out loud.


	28. Chapter 28

In Japan, bullying was much more undercover. Unusual children were ostracized and ignored altogether. Even the lowest rung on the social ladder wouldn’t chance spending their lunch beside a student that the majority had decided was wrong in some way. These excluded individuals stayed far away from one another, desperate to redeem themselves and become accepted as part of the whole. Kiku could recall only a few specific instances in which the bullying had escalated into physical abuse, but in the grand scheme of things Kiku wasn’t sure that it made much of a difference. 

Kiku himself had always been quiet and smart enough to avoid any major social missteps, which isn’t to say he didn’t hear the occasional insult regarding the angle of his eyes or the sound of his native tongue. In America, victims of bullying came in all shapes and sizes, but more often than not Kiku had observed that it was the smaller and weaker that were preyed upon the most, which is exactly why Kiku had never expected Alfred to be one of them. 

Alfred gasped when his back hit the metal locker, and Kiku winced in sympathy, backpedalling around the corner he’d just turned. Wary of the perpetrators turning on him, Kiku tried his best to remain hidden as he watched the scene unfold. There were three guys, only one of which managed to top Alfred’s towering height. The other two were obviously his lackeys, snickering when the tallest boy leaned in close to Alfred’s face.

“Faggot,” he spat, hand fisted in Alfred’s shirt. 

Alfred stuttered but managed to respond. “Fuck you,” he said, chest heaving.

The tallest boy laughed. “You wish, queer.’ 

Then he did to Alfred what Kiku had been warning him would happen since day one in those baggy jeans: he pantsed him. Kiku knew the decision hadn’t been intentional, but Alfred had picked the worst possible day to wear boxers with small ponies on them. The underwear featured Rainbow Dash exclusively, if Kiku wasn’t mistaken. 

The three teenagers erupted into laughter and Alfred struggled to push them away, grappling for the loose waist of his jeans. Kiku was merely grateful the hallway was empty. 

“He really is a faggot,” said one of the boys, pointing. “Him and the fucking ponies again,” guffawed the other.

Kiku’s heart seized and he could feel the adrenaline pumping into his blood increase. His thoughts were becoming scattered as he struggled to remain quiet, impossible thoughts like Kiku rushing in to break up the fight and save the day, like Kiku wasn’t pushing five foot five on a good day and packing about as much muscle as a malnourished vegetarian. 

Alfred narrowed his eyes but remained unmoving, clearly outnumbered. “You know this show is for little kids, right?” said one of them.

“For little girls,” said the other. “My baby sister watches that shit and she’s three.”

The boys shared a laugh again as Alfred tried to slink away. The tallest one slammed him back against the wall of lockers. “Maybe Alfred isn’t a faggot at all,” he said, sounding surprised. The other two scoffed and tried to disagree.

“No,” said the leader. “I’m startin’ to think maybe Al here isn’t a boy at all. Maybe he’s just a wittle girl.”

His sidekicks nodded their heads, realization dawning on them. “Do you even have a weenie in there, huh?” 

Kiku watched in horror as the bully hooked his fingers into the waistband of Alfred’s pants a second time, and he turned away before he was forced to witness what he already knew was going to happen. 

The pieces fell into place all at once, and Kiku suddenly understood Alfred’s absences in school, the random disappearances, and his strangely shifty behavior in the hallway. Kiku ran all the way to class hating himself for not doing anything about it, and he hated himself even more for ignoring Alfred’s sad smiles in favor or maintaining normalcy.


	29. Chapter 29

After the fourth day with no discernible sign from Alfred, Kiku was starting to worry. Thoughts of Alfred nagged at the back of his mind throughout the entirety of his day, and Kiku found himself studying to concentrate. He wanted to believe that Alfred was fine, that he was okay, and that he’d waltz into second period any second now toting an empty backpack and ass-backwards fashion sense, but the dismissal bell came and went without any sign of him. 

Feliks and Feliciano stopped Kiku in the hallway on the way to third period and cornered him just outside of Spanish. Unsure of where he stood with their friendship after the fight between Feliks and Alfred, Kiku was hesitant to speak at all. 

“Um,” Kiku mumbled.

“Shut up and listen good, got it?” Feliks said, and despite the way he smacked his lips and was barely half and inch taller than Kiku, he almost felt intimidated. “So, like, where’s Alfred?” 

Kiku shook his head Feliciano chewed on his bottom lip. “I haven’t heard from him,” he confessed. 

Feliks rolled his eyes. “Sure you haven’t. So, it it true?”

Kiku raised his brow and Feliciano shifted his weight and twirled a lock of hair around his index finger. “Um, Kiku,” he said quietly. “Is Alfred really being bullied?”

“I don’t--” Kiku started, but Feliks stopped him with a single hand motion.

“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met..”

After Kiku finished explaining the situation, Feliciano and Feliks convinced him to skip school. He desperately tried to tell them that it was wrong, that he’d miss too much information, that his teachers would find out, and even worse, his parents. After assuring him that they’d cover for him and that his teachers would never suspect a goody-two-shoes bookworm like him to cut class, Kiku gave in. 

Kiku walked to Alfred’s house feeling on edge, each footstep weighed down with insurmountable worry. He couldn’t help but think that if their positions had been reversed, Alfred would have done something. While Kiku had witnessed Alfred’s fear and helplessness firsthand, he’d also witnessed Alfred’s boundless confidence. Kiku wondered why Alfred couldn’t apply those same principles to his bullies. 

The trees rustled and leaves fluttered to the ground by Kiku’s shoes. He stuffed in his jacket pockets. Who was Kiku to judge? From what Kiku had observed it wasn’t as if Alfred was ever presented with a fair fight, and though two of the bullies were smaller, three against one still wasn’t very good odds. If it were up to Kiku he’d wait until they were separated, catch them alone and tear them down one by one.

Regardless of who or why or how, Alfred couldn’t just drop out of high school in order to avoid a couple of jerks with inflated egos. With any luck, they’d be the dropouts working in the fast food industry by the time Kiku and Alfred graduated. Kiku cycled through possible conversation outcomes the entire way to Alfred’s house and still hadn’t come to a decision when the front door swung open before Kiku’s knuckles could even graze the smooth wooden surface. 

Alfred looked as surprised as Kiku felt. “Kiku,” Alfred said slowly. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” 

Kiku shrugged. “Shouldn’t you?”


	30. Chapter 30

School had become a tense affair with too many secrets between the four of them. Feliks and Feliciano had promised to never bring up Alfred’s situation but Kiku knew Feliks, and he was certain that he was merely waiting for an opportune moment to pounce. Kiku did his best to ignore the awkwardness between and focus on the fact that Alfred had been attending school regularly for nearly a week. When Feliciano was absent that Friday Kiku didn’t think much of it until Feliks leaned over to whisper in his ear while Alfred was in the bathroom. 

“Feliks got jumped,” Feliks informed him.

Kiku cocked his head to the side at the sound of the unfamiliar slang. “Jumped?”

Feliks sighed. “It’s like when a bunch of people gang up on one person and the beat the shit outta them,” he explained. “It’s called jumping someone cause you’re like, supposed to do it when they don’t see it coming.”

Kiku’s eyes widened at the news. The level of violence occurring in this school was unbelievable, but Kiku knew he could do nothing to stop it. “But why--who would?”

Feliks shrugged and snapped his gum. “It was probably those bastards that are like, all up Alfred’s girly-pony macaroni.”

Kiku struggled to understand, piecing together the information in his mind. “But why would they want to beat Feliciano up all of a sudden?”

Feliks rolled his eyes, impatient. “Snitches get stitches,” he whispered. 

Kiku furrowed his brow in confusion but before he could ask Feliks to elaborate Alfred was striding back into the classroom with a lopsided grin. His smile faded when he noticed Kiku and Feliks talking, and by the time he sat down besides Kiku he body was stiff and he was frowning. 

“What were you talking to him about?” Alfred asked in a huff.

Kiku sighed. “His name is Feliks, and he’s our friend.”

Alfred shook his head. “I’m not friends with any faggot.”

Raising his voice, Feliks spoke out so suddenly that several classmates turned their heads. “Well at least this faggot doesn’t wear boxers with pretty pink ponies on them,” he said matter of factly.

The entire class erupted into whispers and laughter. Alfred’s face turned beet red and Kiku tried swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat to no avail. “Ponies doesn’t make me a faggot!” Alfred shouted.

Mr. Beilschmidt’s eyebrows shot to the top of his head and his face slowly began to color. Kiku could hear Mr. Beilschmidt’s rage build and coil like a ticking time bomb while Feliks and Alfred argued, and when Kiku reflected back on the incident, he could recall the exact insult that lit the fuse. 

“Ponies or not, at least I don’t like getting fucked in my ass.”

The classroom silenced itself as Mr. Beilschmidt began slowly walking down the aisles of desks. When he reached Kiku’s he placed both palms on his desk and shifted his attention between Feliks and Alfred. 

“Jones, Mr. Braginsky’s office. Now.”

Chest heaving, Alfred complied, dragging himself away from his desk and slinging his backpack over his shoulder before slamming the door closed. Mr. Beilschmidt shifted his focus to Feliks and narrowed his eyes. 

“You. Hallway.”

Unintimidated and apathetic, Feliks hauled himself into the hallway with an exaggerated sigh.

“And you,” Mr. Beilschmidt continued on. 

Kiku’s eyes widened when he realized he was being addressed. The entire classroom watched with interest, but Mr. Beilschmidt lowered his voice to a nearly undetectable whisper. 

“They are your friends. Next time break it up or you’ll all be in different classrooms.”

Mr. Beilschmidt let himself into the hallway while Kiku remained frozen at his desk. Without realizing it, his friends’ behavior had all become his responsibility, as if Kiku didn’t already have enough of those.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While editing this chapter I noticed that it's a little...bad.

Between two physical altercations and the impending stress of midterms, their group of four looked like a defeated ragtag team on the losing end of a bad game of foursquare. Feliciano looked the worst with a black eye and split lip, arm peppered with dark purple bruises and half healed scratches. Alfred was next in line with a sallow discoloration on his cheek just below his eye. Then there was Feliks, and though his nose was never broken and it was now all but healed, he still insisted that the bandage over it was essential to the healing process, and not, in fact, an invitation for pity and attention.

Kiku liked to think he looked healthy and chipper in comparison, but it was hard to miss the dark bags that had appeared under his eyes and the sluggish way he dragged his body from class to class. Despite Alfred’s constant prying and shocked glances from various teachers, Feliciano refused to name the perpetrators. 

“I already tried snitching once,” Feliciano explained. “And look where that got me.”

Feliks and Alfred couldn’t help but agree, and no amount of pleading could force Feliciano to reveal why he’d snitched in the first place. (Kiku already knew of course, that Feliciano had a good heart and had merely been attempting to help Alfred in the most discreet way possible.) 

Despite the damages Feliciano was still optimistically upbeat. “Aren’t you worried they’ll jump you again?” Alfred asked. 

Feliciano laughed. “No way! My brother said he’ll take care of it, and Lovino always has my back!”

Kiku wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but Feliks assured him that Lovino likely had connections in the Italian mafia. Feliciano didn’t endorse such accusations, but he didn’t deny them either. 

“Yeah right,” Alfred said, rolling his eyes. 

Though Alfred and Feliks were back on speaking terms, the air between them had hardly been cleared. Instead the sour friendship had turned into a constant game of snide remarks and passive aggression. Feliks and Alfred disagreed with one another on any given topic sheerly for the sake disagreeing, and it was starting to drive Kiku up a wall. The entire situation was becoming so frustrating that Kiku could feel it boiling over into explosive territory. Luckily, Feliciano solved the entire fiasco with surprisingly clarity before that could happen. 

“You guys!” Feliciano admonished as soon as Mr. Beilschmidt left the classroom to meet with another teacher. “You two should be nicer to each other, we’re friends!” Feliks rolled his eyes and Alfred folded his arms petulantly in front of his chest but it didn’t deter Feliciano. “Remember when we all used to laugh and have fun together?”

Kiku thought that maybe he was laying it on a bit thick, as he couldn’t recall many situations where one member of their party hadn’t been aggravated with another, but hey, who was he to judge? 

“I definitely don’t, like, remember anytime when this douchebag wasn’t acting like a total bigot.”

Alfred scoffed. “And I can’t remember a single moment where you weren’t being a faggot!”

Feliciano frowned. “Uh, Alfred. Don’t you think that maybe that word hurts people’s feelings?”

Feliks laughed, high and shrill. “As if something that stupid would hurt my feelings--”

Feliciano glared and Kiku was surprised to when Feliks ceased talking. “I don’t really like it either,” Feliciano confessed.

“It’s a free country,” Alfred proclaimed. “I’m protected by my second amendment right!”

Kiku shook his head though the level of exasperation he was experiencing was over nine thousand. “Freedom of speech is part of the first amendment,” Kiku corrected. 

Alfred shrugged. “Whatever, you know what I mean. It means I can say whatever I want!”

“Guys!” Feliciano complained. “This is what I mean! We shouldn’t be fighting. It’s okay if we’re all different, but shouldn’t we try to be nice to each other?”

Feliks eyes skittered to the side. Alfred heaved his chest in an impressive sigh and Kiku nodded. Feliks huffed but he couldn’t deny the small smile creeping onto his face. 

“Fine,” he said at last, turning to Alfred. “I’m a faggot and you’re an asshole. Let’s just agree to disagree.”

Alfred hesitated. “Alright,” he said slowly, before deciding to apologize. “Sorry for calling you guys faggots. You aren’t, okay?”

Feliks’ smile split into a grin. “No, I’m like, totally a faggot. Legit one hundred percent strictly dickly.”


	32. Chapter 32

After Alfred’s initial appearance in the lunchroom, Kiku had begun to expect Alfred’s loud, boisterous presence as he picked at his bento and skimmed an open textbook. The first time Alfred didn’t show up, Kiku was mildly disappointed, assuming that Alfred had elected to cut out of school midday as he often did. This is exactly why Kiku was so shocked when he walked into eighth period and saw Alfred boredly balancing a pencil on the bridge of his nose. 

“We’re using fire today,” he announced when Kiku sat down beside him. 

Kiku nodded, still trying to figure out why Alfred might have skipped out on him. “You mean the bunsen burners?”

They paired up together the way they always did when Alfred actually bothered to show up, but Kiku followed the lab instructions on autopilot. He couldn’t help but run the possibilities through his brain: that Alfred was avoiding him for some reason, or even worse, that he’d found Kiku’s company during lunchtime unpleasant or embarrassing. He wracked his brain, trying to recall every possible detail from the lunches he’d spent with Alfred. 

“Should the flame really be that high?” Alfred asked, amazed.

Kiku’s eyes widened as he quickly lowered the heat. He chewed on his bottom lip as he reached for the beaker. Lost in thought, Kiku nearly spilled their chemical base and forgot to stir in even strokes. Science was something that Alfred had proven good at since the first class period he’d bothered to show up. He undermined his natural ability by explaining he merely had a fondness for fire. 

“Want me to take over for a bit?” Alfred offered.

Kiku allowed Alfred to do most of the work, instead spending class time debating their friendship. Kiku had learned so much about Alfred since that first day he’d turned to Kiku and introduced himself. Certainly they were past the point where Kiku should need to question their friendship at all.

Luckily, after what Alfred said next, he didn’t have to.

“Sorry about lunch, by the way,” Alfred said, adjusting his safety goggles over his normal glasses. “I was stuck in Braginsky’s again,” he complained. “He wants me to spend lunch with him three days a week so I don’t miss any precious class time.” 

From the faculty’s standpoint, he couldn’t help but agree that more lost class time was the last thing Alfred needed. As Alfred’s friend, however, he was nothing but relieved. 

“Well at least it isn’t five days a week, right?” Kiku said, trying to maintain a sense of optimism. 

Alfred shrugged. “It’s still bullshit. Like I even need a counselor anyway.”

Kiku didn’t bother arguing with him, choosing to instead subvert the issue with another question. “What do you talk to him about?”

Alfred laughed. “Nothing. Mostly I just sit there while the creeper smiles at me,” he said with a shudder. “Something is seriously wrong with that dude.”

Kiku chuckled but Alfred shook his head. “For real! He’s got this icy glint in his eye that you only get from killing a man!”

Kiku couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the idea. “Whatever man,” Alfred said, “Just wait and see. One of these days dude’s gonna show up and gas the whole school, and then we’ll see who has the last laugh.”

Kiku tried to hide his smile but ultimately failed. “If what you say is true, I have a feeling it’ll be Dr. Braginsky.”

Alfred rolled his eyes and turned off the burner so that they could observe the substance and take notes. “Shut up and let me see your paper,” he complained. 

They finished the lab early and spent the rest of period theorizing Dr. Baginsky's potential mass killing spree. Alfred slipped Kiku his email before the bell rang, but not before Kiku was forced to promise he wouldn’t laugh. The piece of paper read aflredf_ckyeahjones@hotmail.com which Alfred assured him that he’d thought it up when he was only thirteen. 

“My problem isn’t the language,” Kiku shook his head. “Hotmail, Alfred? Really?”


	33. Chapter 33

Enthusiasm for returning home after spending seven hours in a cramped school building was completely understandable, but Kiku still found the end of the day dismissal rush a little ridiculous. Crowds of discontent teenagers amassed themselves at the sound of a shrill bell, shoving and squishing one another to be the first to escape their daily prison sentence. Kiku had only just stepped foot outside of the school building when an excited voice distracted him. 

“Hey, Kiku!” someone shouted. 

Kiku turned his head at the garbled sound of his name. Again, he was grateful for his own self control. “Matthew,” Kiku said pleasantly with a smile. 

Matthew slipped his hockey mask off as he approached, hair damp with sweat. Kiku flinched when he spit the mouthguard into the palm of his hand carelessly. 

“Where’s Alfred?” Matthew asked, slowing to a stop in front of him. “Aren’t you two attached at the hip or something?”

Kiku shrugged, forcing his eyes away from the hunk of drool-covered plastic in Matthew’s hand. “He wasn’t in school today,” Kiku admitted thoughtlessly. 

Matthew quirked a brow. “What do you mean he wasn’t in school? We walked here together this morning.”

Kiku had always wondered about Alfred’s family and their lack of concern for his education. As he stared up at Matthew he was beginning to realize that Alfred was smarter than Kiku had given him credit for. As time passed it was becoming glaringly obvious that only people who seemed aware of Alfred’s problems at all were Kiku and a few select friends and teachers. 

“Is Al cutting school?” Matthew asked incredulously. 

Desperately trying to save face, Kiku scrambled for a feasible excuse. “He may have gotten sick and gone home early,” Kiku suggested meekly. 

Matthew scoffed. “Yeah right! Al is built like a horse and half. He’s been sick like once in his whole life.”

An awkward silence fell between them before the sound of a whistle caught Matthew’s attention. He turned back to Kiku, maintaining direct eye contact as Kiku fidgeted. After a few moments of awkward silence, Matthew sighed. 

“Okay, you’ve got loyalty, I’ll give you that.” Kiku averted his eyes as Matthew continued. “But you’re a terrible liar.” Kiku rushed to meet his eyes again, swallowing nervously. “See what I mean?” 

Kiku sighed, opening his mouth to speak. “Alfred wasn’t in school today,” he confessed at last, feeling guilty.

Matthew tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

Kiku glanced around, as if Alfred might appear behind them at any moment. “Have you talked to any of his other friends?”

Matthew looked perplexed. The schoolyard was nearly empty. “His...other friends?”

“Yes,” Kiku affirmed. “About his excessive school absences. Perhaps they know something I do not.”

“Dude,” Matthew said, clamping a hand on his shoulder. “Alfred doesn’t have any other friends.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little note to let you guys know this is where I'm picking up again. All the chapters posted before this are at least a few years old, so if you notice a shift in the writing, that's why!

The air was frigid, but not below freezing. Alfred had been going on about snow for days. So had all the news reports, but in the night the clouds had breezed by without remorse, and now everyone had to go to school anyway. Halfway there, Kiku found a ring of the usual suspects circling Alfred, eager to have their ego stroked by making him feel bad.

“He looks scared enough to piss himself,” said the widest one with a ratty ponytail.

It wasn’t entirely true, but they weren’t far off either. Gone was the bravado and defiance Alfred displayed in the classroom or with a teacher. Out here, in the real world, Alfred didn’t have anything but his old jacket to fall back on. The tall, lanky one with a mop of hair stepped closer, itching to throw a punch. 

“Stop that!” Kiku shouted, legs carrying him across the street before he’d considered all the variables. 

Courage, or stupidity, Kiku wondered. What’s the difference? “You can beat me up,” Kiku managed, pulling his gloves from his hands. “I don’t care. I’m not afraid to report you.”

“Shut up you little chink!” shouted the shortest one, flashing his middle finger.

Although Alfred never made eye contact, he glanced nervously between Kiku and the bullies. “Hey,” he said, trying to sound casual. He looked like he was freezing without a proper winter coat, or maybe he was just shaking from the fear. “Everything’s cool. You guys were just messing around, right?”

That had to be the biggest lie Kiku had ever heard. He knew it was about Alfred’s pride as a man, but it didn’t make any sense. If Alfred put any real effort into it, he could take at least one, maybe even two of them. 

The ugly one released his hold on Alfred’s clothes and approached Kiku, towering over him and glaring down his crooked nose. “Snitches get stitches, you hear?”

Kiku braced himself for a blow, but it never came. He cracked open one eye to find the whole group retreating, picking their bikes off the ground and disappearing around the corner. Alfred was breathless; Kiku could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, and the sound of someone’s shoes against the sidewalk. 

“Hey, Kiku!” Matthew called from across the street. “Were those jerks harassing you?”

The similarities between the two brothers were remarkable, as were the differences. Matthew had long since secured his social status at school, but Alfred was sweating bullets, and Matthew could tell. Kiku prepared himself to feel terrible about doing the right thing. 

“They were bothering me,” Kiku admitted, drawing the attention from Alfred. “But I threatened to report them. I’m sure things will be fine from here on out.”

Matthew remained unconvinced. “Well let me know if they give you anymore trouble, yeah?” Kiku nodded. “You’re coming to our place for christmas, right?”

Alfred whined and the entire atmosphere shifted. “Mattie! I was going to invite him!” Nothing quite like family to reduce you to a petulant child. He turned to Kiku earnestly. “You’re gonna come, right?”

Kiku considered it. “As long as it doesn't interfere with midterms.” 

Alfred groaned. “Screw midterms,” he exclaimed. “This is christmas we’re talking about!”

Matthew disappeared to catch up with his girlfriend before they reached the school entrance, leaving Kiku and Alfred to walk into the building without him. The bell rang as they reached the steps, flooding the area with students. In a crowd this large, Kiku felt invisible to anyone but Alfred, like it was just the two of them surrounded by empty space.

“Thanks, for earlier,” Alfred mumbled as they were jostled down the hallway. 

Kiku shrugged. “I know you would do the same for me.”

Alfred’s laugh was hollow.


	35. Chapter 35

Everyone had been discussing holiday plans for weeks: who was coming over and how much food there was going to be and what they were expecting to find under the tree. Feliciano wouldn’t shut up about his lord and savior; Feliks was just happy to be flying to the west coast for family. The whole holiday fostered a feeling Kiku wasn’t familiar with. Officially, the school kept everything strictly non-denominational. This wasn’t like some school down south, after all. 

People celebrated in Japan, of course, and Kiku appreciated the pretty lights and good natured jingles as much as the next guy, but as far as he was concerned, it was just another day. The only notable difference was that sometimes his mother had her assistant drop off frosted sugar cookies. 

Thus, nothing could have prepared him for the overwhelming spectacle that was Alfred’s house on christmas day. The whole place was decked out in fir trim and bright red bows, topped off with a mountain of wrapping paper and three plates of what appeared to be runny cheese over cured meat. 

“Want some breakfast, hun?” Alfred’s mom offered. 

Kiku shrugged from where he was dragging his shoes across Rudolph’s face on the welcome mat. He wasn’t sure how to ask exactly what breakfast was without being insulting. Luckily, Alfred saved him the trouble.

“Have some,” he urged. “It’s cream chip beef!”

Kiku picked at his plate while Alfred showcased his loot, which included a skateboard for which he had no practice, six pairs of socks, and more axe bodyspray than he could possibly use in a year. Matthew had already left, gone to brag to his best friend and play hockey at the local rec center. 

“Where are your parents?” Alfred’s mom asked. She couldn’t digest the idea that Kiku had been left alone on Christmas, of all the days.

“Oh,” Kiku said, feigning surprise when the whole thing was actually rehearsed. Alfred had warned him of what to expect in advance. “They are very busy with work.”

“Even on baby Jesus’ birthday?” She shook her head. “What a shame.”

Turns out, Alfred did have family from down south, but they weren’t on speaking terms. He kept making jokes like he half expected his dad to show up in a Santa Claus costume. They were probably supposed to be funny, but mostly, Kiku just found the whole thing pretty sad. 

“So...” Alfred wagered. “When am I gonna get an invite to your crib?”

“My parents don’t allow me to have company over.”

Alfred cocked his head to the side. “You mean, like...on school days?”

“No.” Kiku sighed. “I mean never.”

The conversation lapsed with Alfred’s mom cooking in the kitchen, silence stretched out like saltwater taffy. Kiku stared at his fingernails while Alfred pretended to inspect his new socks. Usually, Alfred babbled the embarrassment away, and Kiku never realized how much he was leaning on such a crutch until it was gone. 

“Alfred...” Kiku tried meekly, still trying to muster up the courage. 

When he turned, Alfred’s face was pink, twisted up like he’d eaten something sour. He puckered his lips and narrowed his eyes, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. Before Kiku could ask him what was wrong, it came spilling out, like an avalanche from an overstuffed closet. 

“I know you don’t celebrate christmas and probably just think the whole thing is stupid and it’s not that I even care about Jesus but - ” Alfred’s nostrils flared when he finally wrenched his hands from his pockets. “I got you this anyway.”

Kiku tentatively reached for the small box, haphazardly wrapped and tied together with a red ribbon. After he finally wrestled it open with a pair of wayward scissors, Kiku choked on his own surprise, staring at the tiny charm in disbelief.

“It’s a dragonfly,” Alfred explained, like Kiku couldn’t tell. It was dark blue with a turquoise stripe running across it’s back. “You can put it on your phone or your DS or I can just take it back, if you don’t -”

Kiku held it between his fingers, trying to hide the small smile forming on his face. “I know what it is.”

“Oh,” Alfred said, cut short. “Duh.”

It was rare, but sometimes emotions even overwhelmed Kiku. He buried his face in Alfred’s shoulder when he hugged him, drawing him in close. 

“It’s very thoughtful,” Kiku mumbled, heartbeat thudding in his chest. 

The door swung open with a cold gust of wind and they sprang apart, glued to opposite ends of the couch. Alfred’s Mom came from the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about when Matthew finally stuck his head through the door and dropped his skates on the floor. 

“Are you guys gonna watch the Grinch?” Matthew bellowed, totally oblivious. He threw his hat at Alfred’s face and laughed at his stricken expression. He glanced between his brother and Kiku, for a little too long. “Unless I’m interrupting something?”

Kiku’s mouth felt dry, but he was confident he wouldn’t have to speak. He slipped the charm into his pocket, where he could feel it pressed softly against his leg.

“Fine,” Alfred conceded with a glare. “Live action or animated?”

Matthew smirked. “Live action.”

Alfred heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Kiku’s never seen it, we can’t start off with live action!”

“Ah,” Kiku rubbed his wrist. “I’ve seen it.” 

“Which one?” they chorused. 

Kiku smiled. “Both.”


	36. Chapter 36

The day after New Year's, Kiku found Alfred trying to hide a handmade postcard in his mailbox. He glanced between Kiku’s house and the two on either side, brow furrowed, face twisted in concentration. Kiku ducked behind the curtain to watch, amused until Alfred began rifling through his parents mail. When Kiku unlocked the door and inched it open Alfred perked up, hugged the bundle of letters to his chest, and bolted down the block.

For a few short seconds Kiku stood stunned in the sunlight, watching it reflect off the back of Alfred’s bright yellow hair as he ran away, soles flapping against the pavement. Although he only looked over his shoulder once, it was enough of a distraction to send him toppling over an uneven divot in the sidewalk, face first. 

Kiku was breathless by the time he caught up to Alfred, who was still trying to shuffle spilled mail back into his arms. Bracing himself on his knees, Kiku watched a bead of sweat drip from Alfred’s forehead to his chin. 

“Alfred,” Kiku said at last. “What - what are you doing?”

With a sigh the size of his heart, Alfred released the flood of mail back to the ground before dropping down clumsily beside it. 

“I wanted to invite you,” Alfred offered in explanation. “Like, officially and stuff.” 

The heat receded once Kiku’s heartbeat returned to normal, forcing him to notice the early winter chill. In the height of excitement Kiku hadn’t had any time to dress properly, and now he was stuck shivering halfway down the street in paper thin pajamas. 

“Invite me?” Kiku echoed. Didn’t cellphones exist for a reason? “To where?”

He eased into a squatting position so he could meet Alfred’s eyes, rubbing his hands against his arms in a feeble attempt to generate warmth. 

“To Chinese new year!” Alfred exclaimed. A gust of wind tried to make off with a particularly scary looking bill but Alfred slapped his hand down to stop it. “Or, Japanese new year, I guess?”

Alfred pushed the postcard into his hands, face lit like a lantern. Kiku turned it over twice, carefully examining the poorly drawn pokemon and shoddy kanji. It was an invitation to come see the lantern festival in chinatown tomorrow, which was about as much notice as he had come to expect from Alfred. 

“Did you write this yourself?” Kiku asked, though the answer was obvious. “It’s very impressive.”

“You know it!”

Someone not far off started mowing their lawn and Alfred jumped. Just a little ways down the street was the looming threat of traffic, twin headlights shining like the eyes of a demon. Kiku encircled half of the mail as he got back to his feet.

“Let’s put this back where it belongs,” Kiku suggested wisely. “Before my parents get home.”

They started the short trail back to Kiku’s house, close enough their elbows bumped. Kiku’s parents weren’t due home until well after five, but he could feel the familiar spike of anxiety in his stomach. It wasn’t as if his parents didn’t know he had friends, but it also wasn’t something there was much precedent for. 

“Why do your parents need a lawyer?” Alfred asked as he rifled through the other stack of envelopes.

Kiku shrugged. “It’s not my business.”

Refusing to dwell, he pushed the notion from his mind and put back the mail before sitting beside Alfred on the steps. He wanted to invite Alfred into his house against his parent’s wishes, wanted to cook him lunch and show off the spartan cleanliness of his room while they talked about fireworks and Feliciano.

“So you’re gonna come tomorrow, right?”

Kiku nodded. “Of course.” 

“Great!” Alfred grinned and jumped into the air. His palms were still scraped raw, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Meet me at the bus stop at noon tomorrow, okay?” He almost slipped as he treaded backwards down the steps. “The one behind our school, next to the big tree!”

Kiku’s eyebrows slowly and deliberately rose. “Where are you going?”

Alfred laughed. “Technically, I’m grounded.” He waved away Kiku’s apprehension. “Don’t worry about tomorrow. Remember, twelve o’clock!”

For a long time after Alfred disappeared from sight, Kiku sat underdressed on the cement steps, considering the butchered Japanese with sweaty fingers and a fluttery feeling in his chest. Upon returning to his house, he found he’d locked the door behind him.


	37. Chapter 37

For Kiku’s parents, a day trip to Chinatown wasn’t a particularly hard sell. They’d already had a little makeshift celebration of their own - fancy tuna at his father’s restaurant and a viewing of the city’s annual fireworks show in the park afterward. Kiku only received a few envelopes from his family back home, and one from each of his parents, but he was more than satisfied with his luck. His father had brushed off the request with cold indifference while his mother nodded her assent. 

Usually, Kiku spent the rest of winter break getting a head start on next term's readings, or in this case, SAT prep. Technically, he only had to take them once, but he was going to take them twice and go to cram school in between just in case. Alfred was blase about the whole thing, insisting Kiku worried enough for both of them. 

“Tests are for suckers,” Alfred explained over sushi, waving his chopsticks in the air to demonstrate his point. “I’ll just become a construction worker or cop, like my Dad. You don’t need good grades to beat up bad guys.”

Kiku watched him duck under the table to retrieve one of his dropped chopsticks. The assessment was about as astute as the average nine year old. Alfred still seemed to function under the genuine belief that the world was made up of good guys, and bad guys. Almost immediately, he labeled Wang Yao as a bad guy. 

“Honda Kiku!” Kiku whirled around at the sound of his name. “Long time no see!”

Recognition was instantaneous, even after this many years. Although his hair was longer now than he’d ever seen it, tied back in a low ponytail that hung past his shoulders. First name basis felt unfamiliar with this much time lost between them. 

The pitch in his own voice startled him when he opened his mouth. “Yao?” 

“Who else?” Yao squeezed himself through the throng of people and dragged an empty chair over to their table. They were seated outside, crammed along the side of a busy street. “How could you forget?”

Tension wormed it’s way into Kiku’s gut despite the soft, traditional music coming from the restaurant. Yao was as pushy as ever, it seemed. He glanced between Alfred licking his lips and Yao’s miffed expression. He had two plush panda bears stuffed under one arm. He’d carried one when they were kids too, but it was long gone. 

“This is my friend,” Kiku said, gesturing weakly to the oblivious blond American. “Alfred.” He took a deep breath before gesturing to the newcomer. “Alfred, this is Yao. We were friends in elementary.”

Yao looked entirely unimpressed. “Before elementary,” he corrected. “I knew Kiku when he was still peeing his pants.”

That made Alfred smile. “Nice to meet you,” he said, words muffled by the food in his mouth. Yao drew his hand back and Alfred shrugged. “I didn’t know Kiku had any other friends.”

Kiku watched in abject horror as Alfred pulled a handful of McDonald’s ketchup packets from his jacket, tearing through two at a time before squeezing twin blobs of ketchup onto a california roll and shoving it into his mouth. Something in his stomach curdled when Yao reached for a dumpling with Kiku’s chopsticks.

Yao wrinkled his nose after the first bite. “Neither did I,” he said when he was finished chewing. “I was starting to think he’d be alone forever!”

Alfred laughed so hard a grain of rice narrowly missed Kiku’s cheek. “More like forever alone!”

Kiku sat quietly while they shared a laugh at his expense. Shouldn’t he be happy that the two of them were getting along?

“They’re lighting the lanterns!” called an unfamiliar voice. Someone a little shorter than Yao reached an arm through the crowd and yanked on Yao’s sleeve. “Let’s go!” 

Two people appeared beside Yao, friends of his, Kiku presumed, urging him to leave. They were both of asian descent, but of which, Kiku couldn’t tell. Yao rolled his eyes and stood up, but didn’t introduce them. Alfred didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he certainly didn’t care. 

“It was nice to see you again Kiku,” Yao said, reaching over Alfred to grab Kiku’s phone. “I’m giving you my number. Text me, okay?” He smiled at Kiku’s perturbed expression, eyes skirting to the remaining gyoza on his plate. “I can come over and teach you how to make real potstickers.”

“This guy,” Alfred snorted after he left. “Thinks he knows everything about Asian culture just ‘cause he’s Korean or something.”


	38. Chapter 38

After two weeks of weather fakeouts and a predictably off-white Christmas, it finally snowed for real. Every rooftop and car windshield was buried under at least six inches, but somehow Kiku’s parents both made it to work on time. All public and parochial schools in the local district were closed for the day, leaving children to sled down front lawns on trash can lids and erect igloos in the piles from plowed streets.

Kiku had fond childhood memories of winter in Japan: soaking up steam beside his family in the hot springs up north, or bumping Mom’s feet under the kotatsu. These days, the house was empty more often than not, leaving Kiku to his own devices. Things had been tense ever since his mother had switched from being a professional housewife to a savvy businesswoman. 

Something splatted against Kiku’s bedroom window, hard enough to knock over a picture frame resting idly on the sil. Kiku pulled back the blinds and unlocked the window to find Alfred’s smiling face glaring up at him. Before he could say anything, a snowball barreled into his room and hit him square in the chest.

Alfred doubled over with laughter while Kiku rushed to dress and stumbled down the stairs. He chucked another snowball as soon as Kiku made it out the front door. Halfway down the sidewalk Kiku slipped on a patch of ice while trying to zip up his coat. His hat fell despondently beside him. 

“Nice one,” Alfred teased, outstretching his arm to help him to his feet. 

His outfit left a lot to be desired. Alfred wasn’t even wearing a winter coat, just baggy jeans, a thin cotton hoodie, and sopping sneakers. It’s as if he had no sense of self-preservation. 

“You should be wearing gloves,” Kiku admonished upon noticing.

Alfred shrugged. “I am wearing gloves!” Kiku crossed his arms and Alfred rolled his eyes. “Okay, well I’m wearing one glove.”

Kiku eyed the abomination - a flimsy black thing with Alfred’s fingertips peaking through. His other hand was raw and wet. Alfred rolled his shoulders and jammed his fists in his pockets. The wind grazed his face, sharp and biting. 

“With holes in it.” Kiku frowned, before rummaging around in his coat. “One moment.” 

Kiku produced a second pair of mittens much like the ones he was wearing: hardy snowproof, and blue. He silently offered the gift, but Alfred appeared to be mortally offended. 

“I’m not wearing mittens, they’re for babies and little girls!” Kiku didn’t blink and Alfred scowled. “Okay, fine. I’m wearing the stupid mittens.”

The moment the clothes were secured Alfred bent down to scoop up snow. He rolled it between this palms until it was compacted into a ball the perfect size for pelting Kiku. They ran until Kiku’s chest burned, white hot with fire, and he was sweating through his turtleneck and sticking to the inside of his coat. Kiku whipped his head around two seconds too slow; Alfred bowled him over in what was meant to be a playful push. 

He wanted to be angry, but he wasn’t. There was fresh blood under his skin and Kiku could feel the steady thump of his own pulse in the juncture of his neck. This was probably something like being alive. Alfred fell back into the snow beside him, spreading his arms and legs to leave a purposeful imprint behind. The sky was cloudless now that the storm had passed, washed out and gray. 

“You know…” Alfred sighed. “My Dad was supposed to come over yesterday.” There was a beat where Kiku didn’t breath. “And on Christmas.” 

His father had been absent from Alfred’s life since he and Kiku had meet. While he’d always wondered, he’d been far too polite to ask. So, he wasn't a cop after all. 

“He was supposed to be out on parole because of good behavior, but...” Alfred sighed, aimlessly scanning the sky. “He never came.”

Incarceration? Kiku sat up, resting his chin on his knees. Alfred's wrist knocked the heel of Kiku’s boot before moving away. He couldn't help wondering if Alfred was warmer now, and what his hot, calloused palm would feel like against his own. Kiku wanted to melt into the snow beside him. 

“My parents are almost never home,” Kiku admitted softly, trying to banish the fleeting thoughts. “And even when they are, it feels so...empty.”

It almost felt inappropriate complaining. Alfred had real problems, after all. Wasn’t it selfish to bellyache when Alfred had only a mother? Kiku noticed he wasn’t wearing his father’s jacket today, either. While he saluted the display of principles, something about it felt pointless, almost superficial. In the end, wasn’t it better to be warm?

“Parents,” Alfred despaired. “Who needs ‘em?”

Everything became quiet and Alfred’s face grew serious. Somber didn’t suit him. The trees bowed when another gust of wind blew through. Kiku flipped his hood up and pulled on the string so it would close. His lips were already becoming chapped.

“Hey, I know!” Alfred jumped to his feet and spun around to face him. “Let’s get hot chocolate.” 

Kiku struggled to his feet and stood beside Alfred, staring at the shapes they’d left behind in the snow. Much to his relief, they didn’t really resemble angels at all.


	39. Chapter 39

February was freezing. The snow had thawed, melted, and frozen again, turning sidewalks into booby-traps and streets into moats. When Kiku finally arrived to first period it was already half over, he had sweat through his uniform shirt, and his toes were puddled in the wet, spongy coffins of his socks. Luckily, no one appeared to notice him silently slipping through the cracked door - that is - until a familiar voice echoed loudly over the distant chatter from the rest of class. 

“Told you he’d show.”

Alfred smiled and his eyes twinkled, reflecting the artificial light from the ceiling between the lenses of his glasses. Feliks was seated beside him, flexing his fingers and balancing a sharpened pencil precariously on the back of his wrist. One nail on both of his hands was painted pink. He sucked his teeth hard and Kiku jerked, bending at the waist in a sweeping bow while the whole room watched.

“Please excuse my lateness!”

Mr. Beilschmidt gestured for Kiku to take his seat before the giggling and guffawing escalated into paper airplanes and dirty jokes. When he dropped his hulking backpack on his desk the whole room shook. Snowflakes defrosted on his warming skin and droplets of water raced down the trail of his jugular. Alfred twisted around in his desk to face him.

“What took you so long, man?” 

To think that Alfred of all people had beat him to school in the first place was laughable. Usually, Kiku was lucky if he saw him before the day was over. Maybe he was turning out to be a good influence after all. 

“Microwave settings are not universal,” Kiku blurted. “That is to say, I had miscalculated the time it would take to get here and prepare for Valentine's Day.” 

Alfred scratched at the overgrown hair on the nape of his neck while Kiku began rifling around in his bag. 

“Prepare...?” 

Kiku responded by casually slipping something onto Alfred's desk. The tiny item was beautifully wrapped in silver foil. 

“I wanted to give you this,” Kiku whispered. “Ever since you taught me the true meaning of Valentine’s Day.”

Alfred’s expression faltered as he reached for it, cheeks turning pink. Didn’t he know what it was? It seemed to dawn on him and their teacher simultaneously. Mr. Beilschmidt barrelled down the row of desks but before he could confiscate it Alfred stuffed the candy into his mouth, wrapper and all. Defeated, Mr. Beilschmidt glowered over Alfred’s shoulder, peering down the rigid line of his nose at the chocolate smeared across his face. Alfred stuck out his tongue to remove the paper and Mr. Beilschmidt turned away to focus on Kiku.

“Unless you have enough for the whole class, don't expect to use this as a valid excuse for being late Mr. Honda.”

Kiku took a deep breath and nodded his head. “I understand.” 

The atmosphere grew serious as Kiku withdrew an unmarked paper bag from his backpack. Mr. Beilschmidt seemed taken aback as Kiku began passing chocolates out to the rest of his peers. Everyone could tell he was slowly losing his nerve.

“Oh, I see,” he grumbled. His face turned pink when Kiku offered him one. “No, I couldn’t,” he said, even as he tentatively accepted the small gift from Kiku’s open hands.

“It’s no big deal,” Kiku said. “I have a surplus from Walmart’s holiday clearance sale.”

Alfred did a double take, gaze flickering to the wrappers scattered across the classroom. Somehow, Feliciano had managed to swindle two, and he wasn’t alone. The look of adoration slid right off his face. In the end, Americans didn’t like to share. 

“The true meaning of Valentine’s Day…” Alfred’s eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead. “To dominate the class by giving out the best chocolates!”


	40. Chapter 40

The Sakura trees in America were different than the ones where Kiku grew up, but the pink buds signaled the sharp onset of Spring just the same. At school, the halls were plastered with cardboard flower petals and glitter font advertising the upcoming dance. It was all anyone could talk about for weeks, and between being forced to hear what Feliks would wear and listening to Feliciano beg Mr. Beilschmidt to attend as a chaperone, Kiku was sick of the whole thing by the time Alfred asked. 

“You’re going, right?”

They were in Alfred’s room cross-legged on the floor, stretched out in front of the Wii U. The clunky vehicles on the television screen were paused mid-race; Toad was mowing the lawn with them. Kiku could feel Alfred’s gaze burning a hole in his head without looking up. 

“Absolutely not.” 

The game resumed; Kiku hurled a blue shell at whoever was in first place, and then shoved Alfred off the side of the road on his way to the finish line. He looked so crushed that it almost wasn’t worth it. Almost.

“Really?” Alfred shifted his weight, easing off Kiku’s beanbag and creating space between them. “I guess it's kinda dumb, but…” He flexed his toes in his socks. “I thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I went with someone cool.”

What’s up with this heavy atmosphere? The rest of the neighborhood and the sky just outside of Alfred’s bedroom window seemed light years away. Kiku stopped moving, controller trapped in his frozen grip. Alfred had a serious look on his face, and it was starting to make him uneasy. 

“What are you saying?”

Alfred rubbed a hand over the back of his neck before answering. It was hard to say if that was a good or bad sign.

“Kiku, there's something I've been wanting to ask…” Alfred took a deep breath. “How is it you know when you like someone?” Despite Kiku’s lack of response, he felt encouraged to continue. He raised his eyebrows and elbowed Kiku in his side. “Boners, right?” 

Kiku’s skin heated in an instant, like boiling water overfilling a styrofoam cup of ramen. Alfred was too close, too tall, and completely shallow. It was an admittedly unattractive trait.

“That's only one part,” Kiku barked. “Liking someone is about understanding what your partner needs without having to ask. It’s about sharing uncomfortable situations with them...even when things are difficult. Packing lunch and studying together...those are all important parts of liking someone too!”

Alfred appeared to consider Kiku’s speech for no more than three seconds. Could he retain information for much longer? That remained to be seen. 

“There’s someone I’ve been thinking about asking…but I dunno.” Alfred fished his mobile phone from his pockets and twiddled with the lock screen. “That’s the problem with this kinda stuff, you have to rely on someone else.” His voice lulled like a Charlie Brown cartoon. “Who would like me, right?” 

The vying for compliments was entirely transparent, but Alfred’s expression of genuine anxiety made him falter. He wracked his brain for something he knew Alfred would appreciate. Surprisingly, several things came to mind immediately, as if Kiku had been storing them in the back of his head for some greater purpose.

“The Alfred I know may be shortsighted to a fault, but he is also brave. Possibly charming, at least by American standards.”

“You really think that about me?”

Kiku floundered, giving Alfred just enough time to patch the pinhole in his overblown ego. He straightened his shoulders and the crease in his forehead smoothed out.

“You’re totally right,” Alfred muttered. “For a second I forgot how great I am!”

“I think you misunderstand -”

“I’m not the problem,” Alfred declared, cutting him off. “It’s other people who need to appreciate what I have to offer.” He stood at least two inches taller, thumbs flying across the screen of his phone. “Thanks bro,” he grinned. “I’m gonna ask her out right now!”


	41. Chapter 41

Alfred’s attendance had been improving as the school year progressed, but his punctuality left a lot to be desired. Monday through Thursday was spotty at best, but Fridays were completely unpredictable. There was no telling if Alfred would show up halfway through lunch, McDonald’s in toe, or if he was going to rush in the moment Mr. Beilschmidt finished reciting directions for their math test, bowling him over in an effort to reach his desk as quickly as possible, sneakers squelching from the rain.

“Sorry,” Alfred said, sounding no sorrier than a little boy who had eaten the last cookie without asking. “The ice cream machine in the McDonald’s near my house was broken, so I had to make my own breakfast.”

Mr. Beilschmidt had the good sense not to engage him any further, even when Alfred pulled a partially cooked strip of bacon from his pocket and popped it into his mouth. The moment hung in the air and almost passed, before the strap of Alfred’s school bag snapped with a sudden jerk, sliding off Alfred’s shoulder and spilling an avalanche of miskept papers onto the floor. 

Kiku could sense the impending blowout just as he could hear a tea kettle rattle before it whistled. He threw himself into aisle between the desks and began shuffling the papers into his arms, sweat pouring into his shirt. Why did Alfred always have to be such a difficult friend?

“Let me help you with that!”

By the time the test was finally in front of them, the period was half over, which meant they had half the time they should to complete it. Alfred dragged the bottom of his sneaker across the floor, creating a piercing squeak from the rubber against linoleum. Kiku looked up without meaning to, and when his gaze caught Alfred’s he raised his eyebrows.

The telephone on the wall rang and they both jerked in their desks. Kiku turned his head to watch the teacher cross the room, back to the class as he took the call by the door. Alfred brushed his bangs back, sending droplets of water flying, before smearing his shirt sleeve across the speckled lens of his glasses. Behind the smudged metal frames, his bright blue eyes were begging for something Kiku couldn’t put a name to.

“Bro,” he started emphatically. “You gotta help me out.” The sweeping gestures he made when he spoke were no more convincing than the desperation in his voice. “I really wanted to study,” he whispered hoarsely. “I just didn’t have the time.”

Kiku considered ignoring him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Alfred had a difficult home life, and if he didn’t pass this test, they’d be separated next year. He took a deep breath and glanced to Mr. Beilschmidt twice before giving in. Kiku slid his paper to the edge of his desk so Alfred could get a better look.

“Why not?” Kiku asked. “What were you doing instead of studying?”

“A little of this, a little of that.” Alfred smiled. “Finally got a text back from you-know-who.”

Context clues assured him that Alfred wasn’t referring to Lord Voldemort - unfortunately - he was talking about a girl. The one he was going to ask to the Spring dance. Alfred hadn’t had enough time to do anything since he’d begun obsessing over her forgettable features and commonplace personality. Their conversation was cut short as Mr. Beilschmidt slammed his hands on Kiku’s desk, wrinkling the test under his hand.

“Are the two of you cavorting?” He grabbed Alfred’s and compared their answers. “Cheating, in my classroom?”

Their answers were simultaneous, but conflicting.

“I’m sorry!” Kiku blurted, but Alfred held his ground. “No way!”

This kind of behavior from Alfred occurred so regularly none of their classmates tossed them a backwards glance.

“You both get zeros,” Mr. Beilschmidt snapped. “Get out of my classroom.”

The hair on Kiku’s arms was standing straight up. He swallowed, unshed tears burning in his eyes. Failing his first Spanish test had been traumatic, and he’d vowed to make sure it never happened again. 

“Kiku had nothing to do with it!” Alfred insisted suddenly. “I was just copying off his test because I’m an idiot.” 

Mr. Beilschmidt eyed them suspiciously, glancing first to Alfred’s crossed arms and then to Kiku’s blank face, fingers trembling around a mechanical pencil. His life was flashing before his eyes. Cheating at his old school could warrant expulsion, or suspension at least. 

“Counselor’s office, Jones.” Kiku shuddered when Mr. Beilschmidt crumpled both papers in his palms. “Honda, you can retake the test after school. Understood?”

Kiku watched Alfred in his peripheral vision, heaving his bag up by the good strap and heading toward the door. If anyone could take another hit to their grade, it was Kiku. Everyone knew Alfred was barely dodging being held back. Kiku dragged his attention back to the teacher looming over his desk, staring at him expectantly. 

“Yes,” Kiku muttered quietly, feeling like a coward for the second time that year. “Understood.”


	42. Chapter 42

April showers didn’t let up, not under the threat of a rain check for their school dance, or for finals, looming ominously in the distance. Kiku wasn’t worried about his own grades, but Alfred’s were another story. If something didn’t change fast, next year Kiku would be sitting in Algebra II, and Alfred would be flipping burgers at McDonald's. Kiku had been losing so much sleep over Alfred’s current academic state that he’d finally acquiesced his request to partner with him in lab. 

Predictably, Kiku ended up doing all the work. 

He had barely crammed his way into school with a limp posterboard over his head, half the size of him and sopping wet from the rain when he crashed into a warm body. Kiku apologized on autopilot before looking up. Alfred’s eyebrows jumped to the top of his head and a smile split his face as he lifted the posterboard from Kiku’s flustered arms. He gave it a once over, eyes glossy with gratitude. 

“Whoa, I totally forgot this was today!” He stared at the ink bleeding through the damp index cards pasted on the front and grinned like it was Kiku’s best work. “Thanks, dude. I’ll put this in my locker til eighth period.” 

He rolled it up carefully, like it was a wall scroll of an anime character with cat ears. The corners of Kiku’s mouth were dry. His nostrils flared as he took a deep, sobering breath. 

“Is it safe to assume that you did not complete your portion of the assignment because you were talking to -”

“Shh! You’re gonna jinx it.” Alfred lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think this chick really likes me!”

The sound of the second bell startled him. Kiku was normally in class for well over half an hour before its shrill ringing pierced the air. He glanced down at the state of his clothes with equal parts dread and dismay. 

“Go get cleaned up,” Alfred urged him. “I’ll tell Deutschbag you’re in the bathroom.”

At long last, the bathroom excuse had come full circle. Kiku contemplated the irony as he made meager, mostly useless attempts to dry his clothes with paper towels that felt sandpaper. When that proved unsuccessful, he dropped his bag and locked himself into the bathroom stall. He was midway through twisting water from the tail of his shirt when a familiar, nasally voice filled the room. One of the students who did morning announcements was talking to some egomaniac with an extremely limited vocabulary. 

“Second base is a big deal,” he insisted. “I would know.”

“Yeah right,” countered his friend. “I’m way more awesome. I’ve already done all that stuff. Gone all the way through fifth base, even.”

“Oh yeah, with who?”

“You already know who, stupid. Huge tits, short hair. What’s not to like? The only person awesome enough to touch my Wienerschnitzel!” 

Kiku was too short to see over the stall, so rather than plant his shoes on the toilet seat, he gave up, and peered through the vertical line of space between the hinges and the door. He could only see the rough outline of two profiles standing at the urinal. 

“Her?” The one with dark hair zipped up and headed to the sink. “The one with Matt’s brother following her around like a puppy?”

“Mattie has a brother?”

They were talking about Alfred and the girl he’d been working up the will to ask to the dance. Kiku glimpsed a flash of white hair when his friend crossed to the exit without washing his hands and they left, talking about her cup size. Kiku gave up on the state of his clothes and swung his school bag over his shoulders, sneakers squeaking all the way down the hall. He couldn’t help but wonder about her measurements himself, and more importantly, how he was going to tell Alfred.


	43. Chapter 43

Somehow, a week had passed since that first internal declaration. Now the dance was upon them, and Kiku was no closer to confessing the truth. It wasn’t for lack of trying - Alfred had become scarce in the days preceding, and the timing was never right. The secret was souring the sensitive lining of Kiku’s stomach and keeping him awake at night. Whenever it was just the two of them, it felt like all the oxygen had been siphoned out. Since when had their friendship turned into stale bread? 

The tip of Kiku’s mechanical pencil snapped, and his eyes drifted from the broken graphite to the the teacher’s desk. The classroom was empty. Feliks was grinning down at a small, cartoon imitation of Alfred on his desk. He snatched the looseleaf before Kiku could cover it up and passed it to Feliciano. If his expression were a painting, Kiku would call it “Moral Outrage.” 

“You have to tell him!”

“Who?”

“Ugh, you know who!”

Alfred had other plans. Chasing skirts was always going to be more important than school, Kiku had known that from the start. Why was it just beginning to bother him now? He stood up, forced his trembling fists to relax, and replaced the items in his bag on rotary. Feliks sucked his teeth.

“Are you jealous?”

Kiku had never formally explained the situation, but he couldn’t recall a single detail of his personal life he had willingly divested to Feliks. He snatched his notes from Feliciano and dropped them into his backpack before heaving his textbook on top. The resulting wince from Feliciano gave him less satisfaction than he anticipated.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re his best friend,” Feliks insisted. “Wouldn’t you want to know if someone was on their way to steal your girl?”

“Ah, that.”

Feliks arched an eyebrow. “What did you think I meant?”

Feliciano looped their arms together and dragged Kiku and Feliks into the hallway. After three o’clock, without the torrent of students tearing for the nearest exit, it wasn’t half bad. Feliks elbowed him as they started descending the stairs to the basement floor.

“What about the stuff you heard in the bathroom? Don’t you think that’s important?”

Kiku had rehearsed the sentence over and over again and still came up short. What was there to say on a subject matter such as that? There was a part of him that was afraid if he opened his mouth, everything was going to spill out. What was everything? Kiku didn’t want to know. He just wanted to continue living normally and become successful. 

“Not necessarily,” Kiku amended. “It was probably just gossip and I misunderstood. My English is not always one hundred percent.”

“As if!” Feliks rolled his eyes. “You have better English than half the people I know.” 

They slowed to a stop in front of the gymnasium and Feliciano started giggling. The pink streamers and cardboard cutouts advertising the dance were taunting him from the nearby bulletin board. Kiku sighed, wary of what was going to happen next. 

“When you see him, you’re gonna have a total dickshit.” Feliks didn’t wait for Kiku to ask. “It’s when your dick is like so mindfucked it takes a shit. A dickshit.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.” Feliks pushed Kiku toward the doors until his nose touched the glass. “Look.”

Kiku could just barely make out a tall, surprisingly graceful figure struggling to lead a clumsy oaf with two left feet. He could identify the guidance counselor from the way he carried his weight. It wasn’t exactly what anyone could call a dance. Kiku squinted, but the fog from their combined breath was making it difficult to see. 

“It’s Mr. Braginski,” Kiku mumbled. He had always given Kiku the impression of a friendly stuffed animal that had been forgotten in the attic for a very long time. “He’s kind of like a big bear.” 

“He gives me the creeps too, but that’s not my point.” Feliks tapped his fingernail against the window, pointing to a smaller figure in the distance with blond hair. “That’s Alfred. He’s actually over there with Comrade Creep - he’s trying.”

They shuffled awkwardly around the room, swaying gently from side to say. It was impossible to make out what they were saying, until Feliciano cracked the door.

“Stop marching,” Mr. Braginski snapped. Alfred flinched. “We are dancing, not invading Poland. Da?”

Feliks snorted and Alfred’s head snapped back, eyes wide and frantic. It took him less then a second to finally register the three of them peering through the heavy double doors. Feliciano forced him into the gymnasium and then the pair took off running before Kiku could protest. Alfred had the nerve to try and act casual.

“Uh...hey dude. I’m just…”

He tried to halt the motion but Mr. Braginski kept moving, grip tight and pace undisturbed. Alfred stumbled through the last few steps pink faced with rigid posture. He was breathless by the time Mr. Braginski released him.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to speak with you about.”

“Geeze,” Alfred smiled, but the skin under his eyes didn’t crinkle. “You’re kinda freaking me out. What’s up?”

Kiku stared into Alfred’s eyes and saw himself there, small and dark haired and unremarkable. The words dried in his throat and died on the tip of his tongue. Alfred was better off not knowing, better off without a dishonest friend.

“I’m not going.” Kiku said, followed by a sharp exhale. “I just wanted to let you know.”

Why did choosing not to go of his own violation feel so disappointing? What was he missing out on? The snacks, the music, the touch? 

“Don’t scare me like that,” Alfred warned him. “Man, I thought you were going to have a dick shit.”

Alfred let out a pent up breath. He laughed, slow and relaxed, and ruffled Kiku’s hair. For an instant, Kiku wondered what it would be like to feel Alfred’s hand at his waist instead. The image slipped through his fingers like sand. 

Time was running out.

“We should hang out, after.” Alfred lowered his voice to a whisper. “Unless I get to third base.” He winked, but Kiku couldn’t find the will to smile. “If that happens, I’ll see you on Monday.”


	44. Chapter 44

Everything fell apart, like tissue paper dropped in water. The important bits of Kiku’s life had already begun dissolving, reduced to particles floating in the bottom of a half-empty cup. He stared at the imposing cement building from across the street, hood of his coat drawn to a tight close. From the outside, his school could have just as easily been a prison. 

Alfred was in there somewhere, dancing with his future girlfriend while Feliciano stole glances at their Algebra teacher. Why he chose to chaperone was beyond Kiku’s understanding. Feliks had gone too, and no amount of coaxing from either of them could convince Kiku to change his mind. Kiku just wasn’t the kind of person who could enjoy himself at a dance, was he?

Before Alfred, he was sure of it. Everything in his life had been...uncomplicated. Or maybe boring was the right word after all. Kiku felt betrayed. At least back then, he hadn’t known what he was missing.

“Kiku?” A familiar voice derailed the train of thought racing through his head, and for a moment, he hoped for the impossible. “I knew it was you.” 

He lifted his head to find Yao staring down his nose at him with crossed arms. The train crashed in a headlong collision, and Kiku swallowed the disappointment like a tablespoon of cherry cough syrup. His cuticles quite suddenly became the most interesting stimulus sans the school.

“Yao,” Kiku managed at last. “What a surprise.”

“I’m here to pick up my little sister,” he said evenly, and then, less so. “You never texted me.”

How was Kiku supposed to respond to something like that? 

Yao sighed, unfolded his arms, and slowly lowered himself onto the curb beside him. When Kiku didn’t shift, he reached an arm behind him and snagged the hood of his coat, yanking it back in one swift motion. 

“Why don’t you leave me alone?” Kiku snapped, eyes narrowed. His face felt hot, and he was starting to worry he might cry. “We aren’t friends.”

“That’s true.” Yao seemed taken aback, more watchful than Kiku was comfortable with. He brushed a strand of hair from Kiku’s sweaty forehead. “But weren’t we, once?”

Kiku flinched and Yao dropped his hand. He looked softer under the moonlight, almost vulnerable. When he smiled, Kiku’s heart thumped hard enough to rattle his rib cage, so he stared at the asphalt instead, twisting his sneakers against the curb. 

“So where is your friend?” Yao asked, resting an elbow on his knee. “The one with poor eyesight.”

“Inside.”

“Without you?”

Kiku shook his head, although it was true. He’d had every opportunity to attend. His parents were home less and less, and when they were, never at the same time. Tonight was no exception, but somehow the emptiness of the house had become suffocating in its own way. 

“I opted not to go,” Kiku explained.

The heavy double doors to the school entrance swung open and they both looked up to watch a gaggle of teenagers stumble out, laughing. Music escaped as the doors fell shut, a song Kiku knew but couldn’t put a name to.

“And yet, here you are.” Yao regarded him. “You’re the same as ever, aren’t you?” 

Kiku shrugged and Yao slipped his hand from where he was resting it on Kiku’s shoulder. 

“Aren’t we all?”


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another not entirely beta'd chapter. We're almost there guys, just five more to go!

Spring break was different than the winter recess that had come before it. Kiku realized now that the dance had merely been a symbol for what was to come, a precursor for the uphill battle he was destined to lose. On top of losing his closest friend, his family was coming undone at the seams. The letter crumpled in Kiku’s trembling, white knuckled grip. This was the second readthrough and he still couldn’t comprehend what was written on plain white paper in perfectly legible Japanese. 

“My parents are getting a divorce.” Kiku swallowed hard, throat tight. “And my Mom wants to move back to Japan.”

The mattress dipped beside him and Kiku jumped. He wasn’t used to having anyone else in his room, much less his bed. Having guests over had always been strictly forbidden. Presumably it still was, but what did it matter? It wasn’t as if anyone was ever home for long enough to enforce the rules.

“Aren’t you relieved?” Yao laughed, shrill and smug. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming?”

Despite Kiku’s frigid family dynamic, the announcement still came as a shock. In Japan, relationships like the one between his mother and father weren’t exactly uncommon. He reread the letter in its entirety twice more, carefully rescanning the lines as if he would uncover some deeper meaning. Anything other than the unimaginable reality unfolding before his eyes. 

Kiku blinked, sending a single tear sliding down his cheek before he could cover it up. Yao leaned forward to touch his neck, and before Kiku realized what was happening, he was pressing their lips gently together. The kiss was dry, almost delicate. Kiku’s heart thumped in triplicate and the nausea brewing in the pit of his stomach rose to a boil. He flinched and pulled away when a loud clunk rattled the windowpane. 

Their heads swiveled simultaneously, but Kiku couldn’t spot any movement through the half-drawn blinds. He peaked between them anyway, trying to catch his breath. Yao had stolen his first kiss, but the real violation had taken place in his mind. Now that Yao had pried the can of worms open, Kiku knew there was no lid or lie that could seal it shut ever again. How was he going to face Alfred?

“I don’t have that kind of inclination,” he explained rigidly. He wanted to create space between them, but he felt too awkward to move. “Sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“I’m not wrong,” Yao said, condescendingly overconfident. “Unless there’s already someone you like?” Kiku stiffened and Yao sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Four-eyes, right?”

“No,” Kiku choked, although there was hardly any saliva in his mouth at all. “I don’t have time for that type of relationship.”

Thinking about it was pointless. Romance and love were fickle, transient things that even a marriage couldn’t sustain. He didn’t see any reason to pursue more pain when it seemed to seek him without cause as it was. 

“Geeze.” Yao wrinkled his nose and gave Kiku more room on the bed. “At least reject me properly.”


	46. Chapter 46

Spring break ended in an instant, and the semester restarted again. The same old classes with the same old students - same old absent Alfred F. Jones. Kiku dreaded the imposing end of the year worse than the intolerable present. School made perfect sense, but summer always left him feeling listless, and this time he wasn’t even sure which side of the globe he’d be spending it on. 

Public schools in America never assigned cleaning duties like back in Japan, so Feliciano was free to drag him to the third floor at the sound of the dismissal bell. Kiku crowded into a tiny classroom with Feliks and for some incomprehensible reason, Matthew Jones. The reason became immediately clear when he made eye contact and smiled. He and Alfred looked remarkably alike.

“Have you talked to my brother?”

Kiku hadn’t spoken to Alfred since before the dance, and if he was being entirely honest with himself, he was more than a bit relieved. Dense as Alfred was, Kiku was certain he’d know before he could ever fumble his way through a confession. Everyone kept hounding him about his whereabouts - as if he was Alfred’s legal guardian. As it turned out, best friend was a title that appeared to carry equal weight. 

“He’s not going to pick up if one of us calls,” Matthew insisted.

Kiku tried to swallow the disbelief but it was lodged in his throat like cough syrup. He stared out the window, listening to the wind howl and longing for the familiar sight of cherry blossoms twisting through the breeze. Did he really belong here? His eyes skirted to the blackboard. He could no longer resist the urge to get up and clap the erasers. Halfway there, Feliks cut him off.

“You’re his best friend,” he snapped. “You don’t want him to fail out of school and end up at McDonald’s, right? Take responsibility!”

Kiku fished the phone from his pocket and dialed the number immediately, forced into an instant decision by the cortisol pumping into his blood. His hands were so sweaty his fingers slipped across the screen. There wasn’t enough time to worry about what to say. 

“Hello Alfred, it’s your classmate Honda Kiku.” His ear was pressed so hard against the receiver it was starting to turn white. “I-I-we all missed you in class this week.”

“Hey there Kiki,” a familiar voice echoed through the classroom. Feliciano giggled and Kiku realized the entire conversation with Alfred’s mom was on speaker. “Just a sec.”

The shame cooked faster than a cup of ramen noodles, painting his face pink. He paced up and down the rows of desks, straining to hear a muffled voice shouting something that sounded distinctly like “tell him I’m not here!” An abrupt, creaky slam conjured up the image of Alfred’s screen door rattling.

“Sorry hun,” Alfred’s Mom said when she returned. “He’s not here.”

“Understood.”

There was a long enough gap in the conversation that Kiku wondered if Mrs. Jones had hung up. She hadn’t.

“Well,” she said, coughing hard. “You leaving a message?”

“Yes!” Feliks shrieked. Feliciano grabbed him from behind before he could acost Kiku physically, which is a thing that had happened on more than occasion. “Tell him that you want-”

“Feliks misses him greatly. Thank you very much, goodbye.”

Matthew looked disappointed, Feliciano had started crying, and Feliks looked as if he was a few seconds short of having an aneurysm.

“Not to worry,” Kiku said. “I know where he is.”


	47. Chapter 47

The little clearing where Alfred had taken Kiku at the beginning of the school year was etched in his memory. It had become a sanctuary he could visit in his own mind at a moment’s notice. Someplace safe, where the trees protected him and the dragonflies were always in season. Although he had never gone back there with Alfred, he found that his body instinctively knew the route, like a sea turtle returning to the same shore year after year to bury its eggs.

No one else wanted to tag along, not even Alfred’s brother, who agreed with Feliks that it was better if Kiku went alone. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment isolation had become unbearable instead of comforting - somewhere between the Spring Dance and his parent’s divorce, he supposed. 

If only the chirping birds were enough to distract him. Kiku stared at the leafy overhang above him, and then at the expanse of grass, disappointed. The fireflies beat him here, following the blossoming spring. He watched them hover, aimlessly flickering between blades of unmowed grass in a blur of neon color. Without Alfred beside him, he couldn’t bring himself to feel impressed.

Just how naive could Kiku be, to think that Alfred would be here, that he knew him that well? He kicked a pebble on the ground and watched it sink into the meadow. Out here, he could almost pretend he didn’t live in the city. The sound of encroaching footfalls knocked his heart into his chest. His throat was tight when he finally spoke.

“Alfred?”

There was hardly enough time to register the boxy, neanderthal-like features before a first was buried in his stomach. Kiku choked as the air was forcibly emptied from his lungs. He stumbled and managed to catch himself on his knees, but the next blow was to his face.

“In your dreams, chink.” 

Kiku had never taken a hit, and it showed. His whole body twisted from the impact and he crumpled to the ground, soundlessly bleeding onto the cement. When he lifted his head, he saw three sets of sneakers blurring together. 

“Bet you wish your boyfriend was here to save you now.”

His vision swam, and he imagined Alfred the way he might have looked the night of the dance, in one of those tacky t-shirts with a suit jacket and bowtie ironed onto the front. He lifted his arm in an attempt to wave, but he couldn’t move his wrist. He blinked, and realized it was trapped underneath the sole of a shoe. The last thing he saw before consciousness faded was Alfred’s terrified face.


	48. Chapter 48

Starting kindergarten was arguably the best day of Kiku’s short life. Learning the alphabet came as easily as elementary Kanji. Kana, Kiku had mastered when he was just a toddler. Already, schoolwork was painfully easy. He stretched his arm into the air, fingertips wiggling in anticipation, while he tried to steele the overeager expression on his face.

“Kiku?”

The familiar use of his first name from a teacher disturbed him. When he glanced up from his desk, the classroom was gone. He wasn’t six years old anymore, and everything hurt. He blinked, trying to focus on the splotches of evergreen crowding his vision. His head was pounding, and his wrist looked like a limp noodle. Luckily, he could still move it.

“Holy shit,” Alfred said from where he was crouched beside him. “I thought you were dead.”

Kiku coughed and sat up, turning his head and stretching his jaw to make sure everything still worked. Alfred lifted his glasses with his curled first to wipe at his eyes, smearing dirt across the lens. There was blood leaking from his nose and over his puffy bottom lip. It cracked when he smiled.

“How - why,” Kiku started, but his throat was raw. “Why are you wearing such a shirt?”

Alfred glanced down at his own chest, as if he had no idea what he was wearing. It was a black t-shirt with a cheap design mimicking a suit jacket on the front. He shrugged.

“It was the only thing I had that didn’t smell like ass.”

Despite himself, Kiku laughed. “What happened?”

“What do you think?” Alfred spit, spattering the grass with flecks of red. “I had to save your ass.”

Kiku broke the tension by reaching into his pocket for the sealed alcohol wipes he kept in case of emergency. He tore through the seal and leaned forward to dab at Alfred’s bloody knuckles without thinking. Alfred flinched, pulling his hands away and stuffing them into his pockets. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were cold, closer to ice than the ocean. 

The feeling in Kiku’s stomach reminded him of something that had gone bad in the back of the freezer, finally set out to thaw. Kiku dropped his hands to his lap, dabbing at the torn skin of his palms instead. Alfred didn’t move.

“What were you doing here?”

“Ah…” Kiku swallowed, but there was no explanation left other than the truth. “Looking for you.”

Alfred scoffed. “You mean my brother sent you?”

“Everyone was worried, yes.” Kiku stopped for a moment, to consider his own motivations. “But the reason I came is because there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.

“I already know.” Alfred rolled his eyes, voice flat. “You’re gay.”

The statement hung awkwardly in the air, but Kiku couldn’t bring himself to respond. What little anger he’d felt toward Alfred regarding his disappearance was melting away under the setting sun. There was still a pang of jealousy under all the hurt, but something about it was different. Kiku was different, and maybe Alfred was too. 

“My parents are getting a divorce,” Kiku blurted, face hot. 

“That’s not so bad,” Alfred said, but Kiku didn’t look up. “I mean - it is - but it’s not the end of the world or anything.”

For a moment, Kiku thought of Yao, and heard his sharp, unsympathetic laughter all over again. He dragged his gaze back to Alfred - bloody, beaten-to-a-pulp Alfred - his best friend. They stared at one another for a long time, but Kiku knew it wasn’t long enough to memorize all his features.

“My mother isn’t staying here,” Kiku explained. He took a deep, sobering breath before continuing. “I’m moving back to Japan.”


	49. Chapter 49

The piercing dismissal bell rang for the last time that year, but Alfred and Kiku remained in their seats until the teacher shooed them out the door. They lingered around the front of the building long after the rest of the students filtered out, report cards clutched to their chests. They leaned against a railing with just a few inches of space between them, yet Alfred seemed out of reach, like Kiku’s impending departure had already begun. They started talking simultaneously and silenced themselves just as quickly.

“You go first,” Kiku offered.

“I just wish…” Alfred shrugged, and looked up at the sky. Even though it was nearing five o’clock, the summer sun was unrelenting. “I wish things were different.”

There were so many things Kiku wanted to change, starting from the day Alfred twisted around in his seat to introduce himself. Then again, what did it really matter? Every divergent timeline Kiku envisioned had shattered and fallen just the same. This - right here - was all he had left. Kiku pressed his lips into a thin white line. 

“Me too.”

If he was making the right decision, why did everything feel so wrong? His stomach knotted and his chest tightened, crushed by the weight of their crumbling friendship. This city in America was beautiful in its own way, and he had grown to love it, but it wasn’t his home, and it had never been where he truly belonged. Even Alfred could see that much. Kiku rephrased the question over and over in his head before he could bring himself to ask it out loud.

“You’ll text me, right?”

“Duh.” Alfred elbowed him, leaning in close. “You gotta send me all the good anime merch.” He didn’t move away afterward, and the part where Alfred’s forearm touched Kiku’s shoulder became a molten seam. His voice lowered to just above a whisper. “You better not forget.”

“Of course.”

Without Feliks and Feliciano to fill the space with incessant chatter, the quiet moment stretched on for miles. Although initially Kiku had dreaded their constant need to overshare, it had become a comfort - a white noise box that blocked out the thoughts clawing at his consciousness. Now if he wanted noise, he had to make it himself.

“I can’t believe the school year is over,” Kiku muttered. “It was too fast.”

Where had the time gone? 

Alfred rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I got summer school,” he complained. “It’s such bullshit. The Deustbag was obviously out to get me.”

 

“Obviously,” Kiku echoed. “It was clearly unrelated to your attendance.”

Kiku stared at the towering architectural masterpiece that was their school. Once upon a time he had seen it as a prison, but now he found it was just another thing he was going to miss once he left. One of the heavy metal doors swung open, and Mr. Beilschmidt ambled out, carrying a pile of precariously stacked books and papers. He tripped on the last step, nearly sending himself airborne before regaining his balance. Alfred snickered and Kiku gasped.

“What?” Alfred rubbed the nape of his neck. “If anyone has it coming, it’s him.”

Kiku shook his head, full of fondness. When he looked back up he caught himself noticing the strangest details - the way Alfred’s nails were clipped short but still filled with dirt, or how the skin under his eyes wrinkled when he smiled. Even more beautiful, was the small, pale scar on his cheek - proof that was only human - and that he could take a punch. How was it all the little idiosyncrasies of a single person could become this important?

“Dude,” Alfred blurted, as he stepped away from the railing. “This sucks, and - and...” He took a deep breath, before wrapping his arms around Kiku’s smaller frame and lifting him off the ground into a bone crushing embrace. “I’m gonna miss you so fucking much.”

Alfred squeezed him tight, nose buried in the crook of his shoulder, the fabric of Kiku’s shirt bunched in his shaking fists. Kiku could hardly command his limbs to move. His body was on fire - undone - fraying at the seams. He tentatively wrapped his arms around Alfred’s neck, fingers grazing the nape where Alfred’s palm usually rested. 

In that moment, Kiku knew the answer to the question he had never dared to pose to anyone - even himself. 

Alfred sniffled, and the spell was broken. His shoulder blades flexed as he lowered Kiku back to the ground. His glasses were fogged over and the sky was finally darkening behind him.

“Alfred,” Kiku said softly. “I’m going to miss you too.”


	50. Chapter 50

The uninterrupted, fourteen hour plane flight was not for the faint of heart, and thoughts of Alfred filled Kiku’s mind for nearly every minute of it. Between the incessant crying of an infant and a buffet of mixed nuts, there was little with which Kiku could point his focus. Memories flooded his brain until he was drowning in a sea of Alfred’s eyes, soundtrack courtesy of the Minions movie. He accidentally watched it twice in its entirety because he couldn’t unglue his attention from his phone for long enough to switch it out.

Instead, he re-typed the text message on his phone and deleted it once more. Maybe there was no such thing as the perfect time or the right words. Did it make Kiku a coward that he couldn’t bring himself to say it to Alfred’s face? He frowned. It wasn’t as if there was anyway to send it now. Putting your phone in airplane mode wasn’t just common courtesy, it was required.

He fell asleep with his mobile phone cradled in his hands, the stark black type on a blinding white background blinking back at him. Naturally, it was addressed to Alfred.

I’m sorry, it read. I’ve been holding back.

Stress assaulted him even when unconscious, with dreams of rejection and the disgusted look on Alfred’s face. When he finally stepped off the plane, deliriously tired and defeated, it was as if the whole world rushed to greet him. Traveling alone wasn’t easy, but he found comfort in the crowd of people as he searched for his luggage on the turnstyle, engulfed by anonymity.

“Yo, dude! Over here!” A distinctly familiar voice cut through the mass of people like a knife through butter. A sign poked out from above them, showcasing his name scrawled in sloppy black kanji. “Kiku, Kiku!”

Alfred was a yellow beam of sunlight, guiding him to the surface for the first breath of fresh air. Kiku braced himself for the impending bear hug as Alfred dropped the sign in a rush to greet him. The crowd parted around Alfred’s boisterous energy, nearly bowling him over when he finally reached him. 

Kiku had been waiting so long for this moment he was almost disappointed by the reality. Alfred wrapped his arms tightly around him but never lifted him off the ground. He hunched over and held him close instead. Kiku wanted to bury his face in his neck, but that much was impossible. His chest felt sturdy against Kiku’s, broader and more filled out than he remembered.

“Fuck,” Alfred mumbled into his shirt collar before releasing him. “I never thought I’d say this, but I thought the summer was gonna go on forever!”

“It was a long three months, wasn’t it?”

“I still I can’t believe you came back!”

It was hard for Kiku to believe it too. Japan was just as he had left it, yet he could not reassimilate with the ease he’d imagined. Like a puzzle piece left outside in the rain, Kiku had been altered by his environment. Weathered and waterlogged, the edges no longer seamlessly locked together, disrupting the bigger picture. Reality had swallowed his expectations whole and spit him back out, covered in spit, but still breathing.

“Japan may be where I was born…” Kiku stopped twiddling his fingers, cleared his throat, and brought his gaze from the floor to Alfred’s eyes. “But somehow it is America that has stolen my heart.”

Alfred looked at him hard. “You’re different.”

Kiku smiled. “Aren’t we all?”

They left the airport behind, with Kiku stubbornly dragging his suitcase despite Alfred’s offer to carry it. While they waited for the bus, it started to rain. Briefly he was reminded of his father who was too busy with work to meet Kiku himself. He fingered the phone in his pocket, remembering the inconclusive message he’d left there. Resolve was a peculiar thing.

“Alfred,” Kiku said, a little too loud. “You are my closest friend, and I want to be honest with you. There is someone I like.”

“I think…” Alfred rubbed the nape of his neck. “I know who he is.”

Kiku choked. “He?”

Panic crawled through his veins, but Kiku could no longer bring himself to deny his own truth. Although it remained unspoken, the words sat between him and Alfred, taking up what little space remained between them. Kiku was through with secrets - even from himself.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Alfred glanced away. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” Kiku said resolutely. “And...you never asked.”

That - Kiku realized - was the trouble with Americans. They communicated to be heard, not to listen. 

“Oh,” Alfred uttered. Kiku waited for the kickback, but it never came. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

He thought back to the day of the fight, when Alfred had flinched away from his touch. You’re gay, he’d said, but he had never bothered to actually ask. Somehow, it made a world of difference.

“And your opinions about...that kind of thing.” Kiku’s chest rose as he breathed in. “You didn’t exactly make it easy.”

“Me and Feliks hung out all summer,” Alfred offered, as if it was a perfectly concise explanation. “I’m over it, I guess.” Kiku stared at him, and Alfred’s cheeks turned pink. “What! Who else was I supposed to hang out with?” 

Kiku was willing to testify that the old Alfred wouldn’t have hung out with anybody, especially not someone like Feliks. He would have holed up in his room and played Mario Kart all summer. 

“That day,” Alfred said, sounding bitter. “I saw the two of you kissing.”

The moment replayed itself in Kiku’s head with startling clarity. More than the boundary violation and sexuality crisis, Kiku could hear the reverberation of something against his bedroom window.

“Yao and I are hardly friends,” Kiku explained carefully. “And it was he who kissed me.”

Alfred’s brow furrowed, expression twisted into something complicated that Kiku wasn’t sure how to read. Disappointment, anger, disgust? His lips flattened, and his face started to turn red. He puffed out his cheeks and he released a torrent of air. When he turned to face Kiku, his eyes were glistening. 

“Then why did you let him?”

“Because I had to find out,” Kiku admitted. “If I was - who I liked, that is.”

“So this thing with Yao - what?” His voice started to crack, although Kiku couldn’t understand why. “You aren’t even friends, but you like him?”

Was this jealousy, or just wishful thinking? There was only one way to find out. 

“Alfred,” Kiku said in all seriousness. “I don’t like Yao.” For a moment, everything was completely still. Kiku could only hear the beat of his own heart, thumping against his ribs like a caged bird. “The person I like is you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck around for the entirety of this fic despite the sporadic updates! Big shout out to my wonderful wife and editor, [Aruwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AruWolf). I've come a long way since I started this fic - way back when I was in high school myself. It's been eight years since then, and now I'm married with a college degree. There were so many times when I wanted to give up on this fic, and the comments left here really helped me keep going. Finishing things is possible! Hope you all enjoyed the journey.


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